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JOINT 



FORCE QUARTERLY 




The Army-Air Force 
Team 



Missile 



A PROFESSIONAL MILITARY JOURNAL 



JFQ 



AWord from 





| —I 



* 




The articles on "The Security of the Americas" found in this 
issue provide a useful primer on the challenges to the hemi- 
sphere and the relationship of the United States with its 
neighbors. The current pace of change in Latin America ri- 
vals that of East Asia or Europe. However, absent significant 
threats or instability, these challenges have drawn little 
comment in the IJflitgd States. In the future, Washington 
cannot afford to takemis dynamic region for granted. It 
demands our close attention. (continued on page 4) 



U.S.-Honduran 
airborne drop. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 1 



U.S. Air Force 





■ CONTENTS 



1 A Word from the Chairman 

by John M. Shalikashvili 



■ FROM THE FIELD AMD FLEET 

6 Letters to the Editor 



9 Joint Warfare and the 
Army- Air Force Team 

by Dennis J. Reimer and 
Ronald R. Fogleman 




1 6 AFATDS: The Fire Support 
Window to the 21 st Century 

by Steven W. Boutelle and Ronald Filak 

22 A Primer on Naval Theater 
Air Defense 

by Alan G. Maiorano, Nevin P. Carr, Jr., 
and Trevor J. Bender 

29 Unity of Command — 
Countering Aircraft and 
Missile Threats 

by Vincent P. DiFronzo 



PHOTO CREDITS 




■ IFQ FORUM 

36 The Security of the Americas 

by Flans Binnendijk and John A. Cope 

40 Good Bridges 

Make Good Neighbors 

by William J. Perry 

44 A Former CINC Looks at 
Latin America 

by Barry R. McCaffrey 

52 Operation Safe Border: 

The Ecuador-Peru Crisis 

by Glenn R. Weidner 

59 A Brazilian 

Strategic Outlook 

by Luiz Paulo Macedo Carvalho 

64 Changing Argentine 
Military Culture 

by Martin Antonio Balza 



The cover features F-117 being refueled (U.S. Air Force/ 
Val Gempis); the cover insets (from top) show Stinger 
missile launch during Roving Sands '94 (U.S. Air Force/ 
Steve Thurow), Venezuelan troops at National Pantheon 
in Caracas (DOD/R.D. Ward), M-88A1 recovery vehicle 
crossing into Bosnia (U.S. Air Force/Lisa Zunzanyika- 
Carpenter), airborne troops boarding C-141 (U.S. Air 
Force/Jerome G. Suson), and Chester Nimitz looking over 
maps during World War II (Naval Historical Center). 

The front inside cover incorporates (clockwise, from 
top) marine firing down range during Bell Thunder '95 
(U.S. Navy/Stephen Batiz), high endurance cutter Gallatin 
(U.S. Coast Guard), ski-equipped CH-47D Chinook during training in Italian Alps 
(U.S. Air Force/Mike Reinhardt), C-5 taking off for Vigilant Warrior (U.S. Air 
Force/Brett K. Snow), and USS Seahorse enroute to the Mediterranean (U.S. Navy/ 
Kenneth H. Brewer). 

The table of contents photos include (from top) theater high altitude area 
defense (THAAD) FTV-03 (U.S. Army), Miraflores Locks on Panama Canal 
(DOD/R.D. Ward), Salvadoran naval commandos (Julio A. Montes), SEAL in 
defensive perimeter during exercise in Italy (U.S. Navy/George A. Del Moral), 
and F-16 and German MiG-29 (U.S. Air Force/Tana R. Hamilton). 

The back inside cover captures SH-2F landing on USS O'Bannon during 
passage through Straits of Magellan (U.S. Navy/Richard Boyle). 

The back cover shows mobile aerostat in Caribbean (U.S. Coast Guard / 
Chuck Kalnback). 




67 Security and Democracy 
in the Region 

by Luigi R. Einaudi 

73 Defense of the Hemisphere: 
An Historical Postscript 

by Jose F. Mata 




2 JFQ / Spring 1996 





SPRING 96 / NUMBER 11 



76 NATO's Military Future 

by Daniel W. Christman 



■ OF CHIEFS AMD CHAIRMEN 

124 Arleigh Albert Burke 




82 A Fight for Lodgement: 
Future Joint Contingency 
Operations 

by Anthony J. Tata 

90 Medical Dimensions 
of Joint Humanitarian 
Relief Operations 

by Leonard M. Randolph, Jr., and 
Matthew W. Cogdell 

98 Leadership, Community, 
and Virtue 

by James H. Toner 

104 Brilliant Warriors 

by Jay W. Kelley 

111 Research, Writing, and 
the Mind of the Strategist 

by Gregory D. Foster 

116 Days of Future Past: Joint 
Intelligence in World War II 

by James D. Marchio 



■ OUT OF JOINT 

125 Where are the Arleigh Burkes 
Today? 

by Mark Yost 

■ THE JOINT WORLD 

128 Organization, Doctrine, 
and Education 

■ OFF THE SHELF 

1 30 Moral Obligation Versus "Beeper 
Ethics": A Review Essay 

by William G. O'Neill 

1 34 A Jubilee for Airmen: 

A Book Review 

by Thomas A. Keaney 

135 Of Cabals and Complots: 

A Book Review 

by James L. Zackrison 



Joint Force Quarterly 



Hans Binnendijk 

Editor-in-Chief 

Patrick M. Cronin 

Consulting Editor 

John A. Cope 

Contributing Editor (Issue 11) 

Robert A. Silano 

Editor 

Martin J. Peters, Jr. 

Production Coordinator 

Calvin B. Kelley 

Copy Editor 

The Typography and Design Division of the U.S. Government 
Printing Office is responsible for layout and art direction. 



JFQ is published for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff 
by the Institute for National Strategic Studies, National De- 
fense University, to promote understanding of the integrated 
employment of land, sea, air, space, and special operations 
forces. The journal focuses on joint doctrine, coalition warfare, 
contingency planning, combat operations conducted by the 
unified commands, and joint force development. 

The opinions, conclusions, and recommendations ex- 
pressed or implied within are those of the contributors and do 
not necessarily reflect the views of the Department of Defense 
or any other agency of the Federal Government. Copyrighted 
portions of this journal may not be reproduced or extracted 
without permission of copyright proprietors. An acknowledg- 
ment to Joint Force Quarterly should be made whenever mate- 
rial is quoted from or based on its contents. 

This publication has been approved by the Secretary of 
Defense. 

ISSN 1070-0692 



The editors invite articles and other contributions on joint 
warfighting, interservice issues that support jointness, and top- 
ics of common interest to the Armed Forces (see page 136 for 
details). Please direct all editorial communications to: 

Editor 

Joint Force Quarterly 

ATTN: NDU-NSS-JFQ 

Washington, D.C. 20319-6000 

Telephone: (202) 685-4220 / DSN 325-4220 

FAX: (202) 685-421 9 / DSN 325-421 9 

Internet: JFQ1@ndu.edu 

A cumulative index to articles published in JFQ can be 
found on the National Defense University World Wide Web 
server. Access any Web Browser (for example, Mosaic or 
Netscape) by addressing http://www.ndu.edu. 

May 1996 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 3 





Joint Force Quarterly 



GEN John M. Shalikashvili, USA 

Publisher 

ADVISORY COMMITTEE 

Lt Gen Ervin J. Rokke, USAF ■ National Defense University 

Chairman 

BG David A. Armstrong, USA (Ret.) ■ Office of the Chairman 
Col John W. Brooks, USAF ■ Air Command and Staff College 
Brig Gen Roger E. Carleton, USAF ■ Armed Forces Staff College 
MG Richard A. Chilcoat, USA ■ U.S. Army War College 
A. Denis Clift ■ Joint Military Intelligence College 
Col K.A. Conry, USMC ■ Marine Corps Command and Staff College 
MG John S. Cowings, USA ■ Industrial College of the Armed Forces 
BG Robert F. Dees, USA ■ The Joint Staff 
Col Paul V. Kelly, USMC ■ Marine Corps War College 
Ft Gen Walter Kross, USAF ■ The Joint Staff 
RADM Michael A. McDevitt, USN ■ National War College 
BG David H. Ohle, USA ■ U.S. Army Command and General Staff College 
Maj Gen D. Bruce Smith, USAF ■ Air War College 
RADM James R. Stark, USN ■ Naval War College 

EDITORIAL BOARD 

Hans Binnendijk ■ National Defense University 

Chairman 

Richard K. Betts ■ Columbia University 

COF William D. Bristow, Jr., USA ■ U.S. Army Command and General Staff College 
Eliot A. Cohen ■ The Johns Hopkins University 
COF Robert A. Doughty, USA ■ U.S. Military Academy 
Aaron F. Friedberg ■ Princeton University 
Col Robert J. Garner, USMC ■ Armed Forces Staff College 
Alan F. Gropman ■ Industrial College of the Armed Forces 
Col Douglas N. Hime, USAF ■ Naval War College 
Mark H. Jacobsen ■ Marine Corps Command and Staff College 
Thomas F. McNaugher ■ The RAND Corporation 
William H.J. Manthorpe, Jr. ■ Joint Military Intelligence College 
CAPT Rosemary B. Mariner, USN ■ National War College 
John J. Mearsheimer ■ The University of Chicago 
Col Philip S. Meilinger, USAF ■ Air Command and Staff College 
FTG William E. Odom, USA (Ret.) ■ Hudson Institute 
James H. Toner ■ Air War College 
FtGen Bernard E. Trainor, USMC (Ret.) ■ Harvard University 
COF Fawrence B. Wilkerson, USA ■ Marine Corps War College 
COF Terry J. Young, USA ■ U.S. Army War College 



A PROFESSIONAL MILITARY JOURNAL 



■ a WORD FROM THE CHAIRMAN 



( i continued from page 1 ) 

Latin America is a vast region with remark- 
able potential, a vibrant blend of New and Old 
World traditions, of modern societies and ancient 
cultures. It is a geographic term for an amalgam of 
450 million people living in 33 diverse states, each 
with a unique history and sense of national pur- 
pose. To the United States, the countries of Latin 
America and insular nations of the Caribbean are 
partners in three distinct though interactive ways: 
in the development of democracy, in commerce, 
and in the creation of hemispheric security. 

This region has undergone extensive politi- 
cal development. A decade ago Latin America was 
politically troubled, with half of its states ruled by 
authoritarian regimes which repressed their peo- 
ple and mismanaged their economies. Central 



Latin America spends the least 
on defense and has the fewest 
military personnel per capita 



America in particular was a hotbed of instability, 
much of which emanated from the influence of 
the Sandinistas in Nicaragua and Manuel Noriega 
in Panama. Most of that instability has vanished 
from the scene. For the first time in history, every 
nation in Latin America is a democracy except 
Cuba. Each of these nations is determined to fos- 
ter representative institutions, respect human 
rights, and incorporate itself into a wider world. 
Latin America today is striving to meet the ulti- 
mate goal enunciated by Simon Bolivar: "to be 
free under the auspices of liberal laws, emanating 
from the most sacred spring, which is the will of 
the people." 

While much economic reform is still needed, 
Latin America has jumped into the mainstream of 
international economic life. Many economies in 
the region are surging and several rank among 
the fastest growing in the world. This has enabled 
U.S. exports to Latin America to increase at an av- 
erage annual rate of 21 percent in recent years, 
twice the rate of those to the European Union. By 
the end of the century, U.S. trade with Latin 
America will likely exceed trade with Europe. 

Moreover, Latin America has achieved strik- 
ing growth while avoiding ruinous arms races. Of 
all regions in the world, it spends the least on de- 
fense and has the fewest military personnel per 
capita. Gone also is the notion that resources 
must be redivided to attain prosperity in the 



4 JFQ / Spring 1996 







Shalikashvili 



hemisphere. Latin American nations are working 
together to increase their prosperity, which will 
swell their economies to $2 trillion by the turn of 
the century. 

U.S. cooperation in the search for hemi- 
spheric security has made admirable progress. As 
we have combined efforts to improve perfor- 




Grenadian vessel 
on patrol. 

mance of our respective armed forces, we also 
have expanded our efforts to suppress narcotics 
traffic and conducted multilateral operations 
throughout the hemisphere. As old adversaries 
find new democratic partners, combined training 
is becoming commonplace. Ten Latin American 
nations are participating today in 13 peacekeep- 
ing operations around the world, including one 
on the border between Ecuador and Peru. 

Most notable among the recent peace opera- 
tions has been Operation Uphold Democracy in 
Haiti. There, under the banner of the United Na- 
tions, 24 states, including 12 from Latin America 
and the Caribbean, joined in a well planned op- 
eration that stabilized this beleaguered nation. 
The operation represents a high water mark in 
hemispheric security cooperation. As Secretary of 
Defense William Perry noted, "Peacekeeping in 
the Americas, in support of conflict resolution 
and democracy, is more than a principle — it is a 
reality." 

In 1995, military cooperation in the hemi- 
sphere reached an all-time high when the defense 
ministers of 33 nations met to discuss further co- 
operation. They agreed to support openness and 
transparency to lower threat perceptions, subordi- 
nate militaries to democratically elected regimes, 
and resolve outstanding disputes through negoti- 
ations. Because of this conference, cooperation 



between our defense forces in support of legally 
constituted roles is at an unprecedented level. 

While much has been accomplished, much 
remains to be done for hemispheric security. In 
particular, the United States, working with its 
neighbors, seeks to: 

■ increase cooperation and broaden regional suc- 
cess against drug traffic, a major threat to U.S. security 
and to the economic and social order in many Latin 
American countries 

■ improve controls over immigration within the 
region 

■ deepen military-to-military contacts and further 
multinational training opportunities 

■ restructure the U.S. command and control orga- 
nization to accommodate conditions in the region, in- 
cluding the relocation of U.S. Southern Command 
headquarters to Miami in 1997. 

While Latin America remains an active part of 
the world community, U.S. military activity there is 
inexpensive. Given the low level of the threat from 
extra-regional powers and the spread of democratic 
institutions, a high level of security has been 
achieved within the hemisphere with the United 
States contributing only a fraction of a percent of its 
defense budget and less than 5 percent of its world- 
wide security assistance outlays. Given these facts, 
as well as U.S. interests and commitments, a strate- 
gist might conclude that Latin America, though an 
important region, is an economy of force area. That 
is true, and with continued emphasis on democ- 
racy, the free market system, and collective security, 
it will remain so. 

JOHN M. SHALIKASHVILI 
Chairman 

of the Joint Chiefs of Staff 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 5 




■ from the field and fleet 



Letters . . . 

BRIDGING THE GULF 

To the Editor — In “The Middle East: Chal- 
lenges Born of Success” ( JFQ , Autumn 95), Ambas- 
sador Freeman points out the inadequacies in se- 
curity arrangements among members of the Gulf 
Cooperation Council (GCC). Developing these na- 
tions into a collective security organization should 
be a top priority of U.S. policy. Providing the six 
GCC members with capabilities to clear mines, 
track submarines, and assist the United States in 
maintaining regional security makes sense in mili- 
tary as well as economic terms. 

It allows Washington to help foster a standing 
coalition with a common goal of securing the Per- 
sian Gulf for commerce. U.S. policy in the past has 
been to support one power in the region, which left 
us at the whim of that regime and exposed us to 
potential Islamic radicalism and various external 
threats. A multinational coalition alleviates this 
problem as the possibility of all the GCC members 
simultaneously suffering internal or external strife is 
unlikely. And economically, each nation could con- 
tribute to the cost of collective defensive forces. 

It is paramount that we take advantage of the 
cessation of hostilities to shuttle diplomats and de- 
fense experts to the Persian Gulf with a strategic 
plan on which nations in the region can agree. 
Freeman’s comments on the importance of devel- 
oping GCC is both timely and pertinent. The next 
step is to make both military and economic cooper- 
ation among Gulf states a national security issue. 

— LTYoussef Aboul-Enein, USNR 
Fleet Surgical Team Six 

TO BE AMONG THOSE 
NUMBERS 

To the Editor — After scrutinizing the article 
entitled “Operation Downfall: The Devil Was in the 
Details” by D.M. Giangreco (JFQ, Autumn 95) which 
criticizes my book, The Invasion of Japan: Alterna- 
tive to the Bomb, I wondered if he had read the 
same book I wrote. Giangreco reproaches me for 
things I did not say and views I do not hold. His aim 
and purpose appear to be to pillory my book be- 
cause it might give aid and comfort to revisionists. 

A reader might come away from this article believ- 
ing that my principal intention was to rehash the 
seemingly interminable debate over casualties and 
to find low casualty estimates as part of another ef- 
fort to prove that dropping “the bomb” was unnec- 
essary. This distorts both my views and purposes in 
writing The Invasion of Japan. Let me try to set the 
record straight. 



While it is impossible to analyze plans to in- 
vade Japan without discussing casualties, that was 
not my chief purpose. The chapter on casualties 
fills only 1 0 of 250 pages. While the issue of casu- 
alties is the most hotly contested subject in the de- 
bate over the atomic bomb, it is far from the cen- 
terpiece of my book. Projecting casualties for an 
operation that never occurred and that was still in 
the planning stages at the end of the war obscures 
more than it reveals. We simply do not know what 
the casualties would have been, and we can never 
know. With that in mind, I set out merely to deter- 
mine the casualties that were projected by the mili- 
tary planners. Within those limits, the documentary 
record is not particularly rich, but the numbers 
I found were not inconsistent with other major op- 
erations in Europe and the Pacific. Casualty esti- 
mates were made only for Olympic, not for Coronet. 
Furthermore, I found no revisions of casualty esti- 
mates as a result of the massive enemy buildup in 
southern Kyushu in May through July 1945. 1 found 
no original contemporary document that projected 
the kinds of numbers used by Stimson, Churchill, 
and Truman after the war (aside from the discred- 
ited “Hoover memorandum”). The absence of large 
casualty estimates does not indicate, however, that 
the military planners were unconcerned about ca- 
sualties. Clearly, a major Japanese buildup in 
southern Kyushu revealed by Ultra intercepts in 
Summer 1945 shook U.S. planners because it 
promised to translate into higher U.S. casualties. 

I do not argue that the planners were unconcerned 
about casualties — only that there is no credible evi- 
dence for the large numbers cited after the war. If 
my numbers give aid and comfort to the revision- 
ists, so be it. 

I did not set out to write a book that con- 
formed to a particular interpretation about the end 
of the Pacific War, nor do I consider myself a revi- 
sionist. In fact, I differ fundamentally with most of 
the conclusions of the revisionists — especially the 
belief that America utilized two atomic bombs on 
“an already defeated Japan that was desperately 
trying to surrender.” Though this issue is much too 
complex to discuss in detail here, let me say simply 
that the massive buildup of Japanese forces in 
southern Kyushu in Summer 1945 did not appear 
to U.S. planners as if Japan was “desperate to sur- 
render.” Finally, my book looks at the proposed in- 
vasion of Japan from the perspective of our own 
military — a perspective that revisionists have 
largely ignored. 

I tried in The Invasion of Japan to have the 
documents speak and base conclusions solidly on 
their contents. While readers of Giangreco’s article 
would not know it, the purpose of my book was not 



only to examine casualties and connections be- 
tween the invasion plans and the bombs but to an- 
swer some intriguing, long-ignored questions. Why 
did JCS choose a strategy of invasion? What were 
the invasion plans? How were they made? What 
was to be the role of the Soviets and the British, 
French, Canadians, and Australians? To what extent 
did the invasion plans depend on redeploying 
forces from Europe? No author can account for the 
intellectual baggage readers bring to his book. I in- 
vite Giangreco to reread my work. Perhaps then he 
will see more balance in it. 

— John Ray Skates 

To the Editor — D.M. Giangreco provided a 
spirited critique of John Ray Skates’s recent book in 
your Autumn 95 issue. For my part, I want to re- 
spond to a few points on pre-invasion thinking and 
sources as well as the use of the atomic bomb. Gi- 
angreco states that Marshall, presumably on July 
25, 1945 at Potsdam, informed President Truman 
that total U.S. casualties for the invasion of Japan 
“could range from 250,000 to 1 ,000,000.” Gian- 
greco also defends the alleged recollection by Tru- 
man, supposedly based on Marshall’s advice, which 
Skates has challenged. 

There is direct evidence on this recollection 
which neither Skates nor Giangreco consulted that 
bears directly on the matter: What did Truman rec- 
ollect, and did Marshall advise him of the possibility 
of a million U.S. casualties? The relevant evidence 
has been available for over a decade in the files of 
the President’s secretary at the Truman Library. 

They reveal that the famous January 1 2, 1 953 let- 
ter by Truman to Air Force historian James Cate 
(found in volume 5 of The Army Air Force in World 
Warll, pp. 712-13), which is the basis of the “mil- 
lion” recollection, was not really by the former Pres- 
ident. In a handwritten reply in late 1952, he told 
Cate: “[At Potsdam] I asked General Marshall what 
it would cost in lives to land on the Tokio plane (sic) 
and other places in Japan. It was his opinion that 
1/4 million casualties would be the minimum cost 
as well as an equal number of the enemy. The other 
military and naval men present agreed.” 

In early January 1 953 a White House aide, 
troubled by Truman’s low numbers, decided to in- 
flate them to bring them in line with a claim by ex- 
Secretary of War Stimson (published in Harper’s, 
February 1 947) that military advisors before Hi- 
roshima had estimated a million or more American 
casualties in the invasion of Japan. The aide ac- 
knowledged that Truman’s initial recollection of a 
quarter million or more U.S. casualties “sounds 
more reasonable than Stimson’s, but in order to 
avoid conflict [with Stimson’s claim], I have changed 
the wording to read that General Marshall expected 
a minimum of a quarter of a million casualties and 
probably a much greater number — as much as a 



6 JFQ / Spring 1996 



FROM THE FIELD AND FLEET ■ 



million.” That is how and why the final letter, signed 
by Truman, greatly inflated the numbers to include a 
million casualties and therefore is not a reliable 
source. 

Strangely, Stimson’s postwar claim is unsup- 
ported by reliable pre-Hiroshima sources that any 
scholar has unearthed. Admittedly, President 
Hoover in Spring 1 945 did twice suggest very high 
casualties, but his numbers were quickly dismissed 
by Army planners, including notably General George 
A. Lincoln, with whom Marshall agreed. On one oc- 
casion, a physicist suggested very high U.S. casu- 
alty figures, but there is no evidence that this esti- 
mate ever reached Stimson or that the physicist 
would have been accepted as a credible source on 
issues which he admitted were beyond his purview. 
But McGeorge Bundy, Stimson’s ghost writer during 
the period in question, tactfully acknowledged in 
Danger and Survival (p. 647) that the numbers 
probably were inflated: “Defenders of the use of the 
bomb, Stimson among them, were not always care- 
ful about numbers of casualties expected.” In short, 
don’t trust Stimson’s figures. 

Importantly, postwar claims by Stimson — 
both in the Harper’s article and a 1948 memoir, On 
Active Service — never included any statement that 
Marshall was the source for the million-or-more es- 
timate. There is substantial indirect evidence — Ad- 
miral Leahy’s diary for June 1 8, 1 945, Truman’s 
“Potsdam” diary, and Marshall’s August 7, 1945 
cable to MacArthur — that Marshall did not make 
such an estimate before Hiroshima. No scholar (in- 
cluding Marshall biographer Forrest Pogue or the 
editor of the Marshall papers, Larry Bland) has 
found any pre-Hiroshima estimate by Marshall that 
reaches a million or even a quarter million. The 
highest available number is 63,000. Whether Mar- 
shall in fact gave Truman any estimate at Potsdam 
is even unlikely. No contemporary archival source 
provides direct substantiation. There is oblique evi- 
dence in Truman’s “Potsdam” diary entry for July 
25, 1945: “At 10:15 I had General Marshall come 
in and discuss with me the tactical and political sit- 
uation. He is a level headed man — so is Mountbat- 
ten.” Whether the phrase “tactical and political situ- 
ation” even referred to the forthcoming Olympic 
operation (the invasion of Kyushu) is unclear. It may 



only refer to the use of the bomb. The evidence is 
simply inadequate to allow more than a cautious 
surmise. 

Hence, to conclude as Giangreco does that 
Marshall gave Truman advice on July 25 about a 
possible million U.S. casualties seems highly ques- 
tionable. The date of any such counsel, even much 
lower numbers, is suspect. Moreover, though going 
somewhat beyond Giangreco’s claims, it is unlikely 
that Truman ever had a formal meeting at Potsdam 
with his top military leaders — Marshall, Leahy, 

King, and Arnold — on probable casualties or the 
question of using the atomic bomb. None of the 
available diaries (the archival versions) for Potsdam, 
including those by Leahy, Arnold, and Truman, as 
well as those by Stimson and McCloy, mentions 
such a meeting. Only Truman, well after Potsdam, 
ever claimed that such a meeting occurred. 

At one point Giangreco, apparently conflating 
casualty with fatality estimates, claims that Skates 
stated Olympic would not have cost more than 
20,000 casualties. Elsewhere, Giangreco admit- 
tedly got matters right and notes that Skates fore- 
saw no more than 60,000-75,000 total U.S. casu- 
alties, including that upper limit of 20,000 dead, in 
the entire Olympic operation. 

Giangreco is probably correct, as another re- 
viewer of Skates’s book has suggested, that the 
work could have benefitted from a detailed discus- 
sion of how the author arrived at the estimate of 
60,000-75,000 casualties. But perhaps such rea- 
soning, with counterfactual scenarios, appeared to 
be both cumbersome and distracting for an opera- 
tion that never happened. Nevertheless, Skates’s 
substantial explanation of his numbers would have 
been valuable. 

In his final sentence, Giangreco mentions 
possible U.S. fatalities, contends that even a pre- or 
post-Hiroshima estimate of 20,000 would justify 
the use of the atomic bomb, and warns against 
“assuag[ing] the guilt of the revisionists.” One won- 
ders if he is counting Eisenhower, MacArthur, 

Leahy, King, Nimitz, and other World War II leaders 
in the ranks of those “revisionists.” 

— Barton J. Bernstein 
Department of History 
Stanford University 



put your pen to paper 



welcomes your letters and comments. Write or FAX 
your correspondence to (202) 685-4219/ DSN 325-4219, 
or over the Internet to JFQl@ndu.edu 



SOMALIA LESSONS 

To the Editor — I am grateful for the let- 
ter from GEN Downing (JFQ, Winter 95-96) clarify- 
ing the point that SOCOM was not included de jure 
in the odd command relations which characterized 
TF Ranger operations in Somalia (though SOCOM 
de facto involvement probably awaits the future 
judgment of historians). However, we disagree on 
the assertion that the chain of command during 
UNOSOM II was somehow justifiable under current 
joint doctrine or the Goldwater-Nichols Act. These 
doctrinal and legislative authorities make CINCs the 
focal points of operational command in order to 
give them the greatest possible flexibility in match- 
ing command arrangements with unique mission 
requirements. Of course, neither doctrine nor law 
can prevent mistakes, such as the one in which 
CENTCOM decided to retain operational control of a 
joint force over nine thousand miles away. 

The conclusion to draw from that experience 
is noted in a UNOSOM II after action report: “Unity 
of command and simplicity remain the key princi- 
ples to be considered when designing a JTF com- 
mand architecture. The warfighting JTF commander 
must retain operational control of all forces avail- 
able to him in theater and to posture those forces 
as allowed under UNAAF doctrine.” Even though 
GEN Downing apparently favors a loose form of 
“coordination and de-confliction,” in my view on- 
scene command authority should include control 
over all assigned forces, including those from 
SOCOM. While command relationships may vary 
with every mission, the JTF commander must al- 
ways be able to say, “You get off the plane, you 
work for me.” Yet until that concept becomes a 
standard for delegating combatant command au- 
thority, we will have “lessons identified” rather than 
“lessons learned.” 

—COL C. Kenneth Allard, USA 
Institute for National Strategic Studies 
National Defense University 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 7 



ANNOUNCEMENT 



Joint Force Quarterly 

ESSAY CONTEST ON THE 



REVOLUTION 



in Military Affairs 

T o encourage innovative thinking on how the 
Armed Forces can remain at the forefront in 
the conduct of war, /FQ is pleased to 
announce the second annual "Essay Contest on the 
Revolution in Military Affairs" sponsored by the 
National Defense University Foundation, Inc. 

The contest solicits innovative concepts for oper- 
ational doctrine and organizations by which the 
Armed Forces can exploit existing and emerging 
technologies. Again this year, those essays that most 
rigorously address one or more of the following 
questions will be considered for a cash award: 

▼ The essence of an RMA is found in the magnitude of 
change compared with preexisting warfighting capabilities. How 
might emerging technologies — and the integration of such 
technologies — result in a revolution in conducting warfare in the 
coming decades? What will be the key measures of that change? 

T Exploiting new and emerging technologies is dependent 
on the development of innovative operational concepts and 
organizational structures. What specific doctrinal concepts and 
organizations will be required to fully realize the revolutionary 
potential of critical military technologies? 

T How might an adversary use emerging technologies in 
innovative ways to gain significant military leverage against U.S. 
systems and doctrine? 

Contest Prizes 

Winners will be awarded prizes of $2,000, $1,000, and 
$500 for the three best essays. In addition, a special prize of 
$500 will be awarded for the best essay submitted by an officer candidate or a commissioned officer in the rank of 
major/lieutenant commander or below (or of equivalent grades). A selection of academic and scholarly books 
dealing with various aspects of military affairs and innovation will also be presented to each winner. JPQ 



Contest Rules 



1 . Entrants may be military personnel or civilians (from the 
public or the private sector) and of any nationality. Essays 
written by individual authors or groups of authors are 
eligible. 

2 . Entries must be original and not previously published 
(nor under consideration for publication elsewhere). Essays 
that originate from work carried out at intermediate and 
senior colleges (staff and war colleges), service schools, 
civilian universities, and other educational institutions are 
eligible. 

3 . Entries must not exceed 5,000 words in length and must 
be submitted typewritten, double-spaced, and in triplicate. 
They should include a wordcount at the end. Documentation 
may follow any standard academic form of citation, but 
endnotes rather than footnotes are preferred. 

4 . Entries must be submitted with (a) a letter clearly 
indicating that the essay is a contest entry together with the 
author's name, social security account number (or passport 
number in the case of non-U.S. entrants), mailing address, 
telephone number, and FAX number (if available); (b) a cover 
sheet containing the contestant's full name and essay title; 

(c) a summary of the essay which is no more than 200 words; 
and (d) a brief biographical sketch of the author. Neither the 
names of authors nor any personal references should appear in 
the text (including running heads). 

5 . Entries must be mailed to the following address 
(facsimile copies will not be accepted): RMA Essay Contest, 
Joint Force Quarterly , ATTN: NDU-NSS-JFQ, Washington, D.C. 
20319-6000. 

6 . Entries must be postmarked no later than August 31, 
1996 to be considered in the contest. 

7 . /FQ will hold first rights to the publication of all entries. 
The prize-winning as well as other essays entered may be 
published in the journal. 

8 . Winners' names will appear in /FQ and prizes will be 
presented at an appropriate ceremony in Washington, D.C. 



8 JFQ / Spring 1996 








Joint Warfare 

and the 

Army-Air Force Team 




JSTARS aircraft and 
light ground station 
modules. 



By DENNIS J. REIMER and RONALD R. FOGLEMAN 

The Army and Air Force are natural partners in the conduct of 
combat operations on and over land. Since day-to-day opera- 
tions are intertwined, particularly in areas of service support, 
we often take this partnership for granted. It was forged during 
World War II, Korea, Vietnam, and most recently in the Gulf 
War. The most important teamwork occurs on the battlefield, 
where our combined capabilities produce a synergistic increase 
in joint combat power that provides a decisive advantage over 
an adversary. The Army-Air Force team is robust and forward 
looking, unequalled among the armed forces of the world. We 

intend to strengthen that part- 

General Dennis J. Reimer, USA, and General Ronald R. Fogleman, USAF, nership aS We WOtk together in 

are the chiefs of staff of their respective services. the future. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 9 



Northrop Grumman Corporation 



■ A R M Y- A 



R FORCE TEAM 



Cooperation does not imply that we have 
identical views on every issue, nor that we should 
be combined. Each service optimizes its unique 
strengths. National security depends upon dis- 
tinct warfighting capabilities on land, at sea, and 
in the air. Moreover, each service brings separate 
core capabilities — the missions they perform 
best — to the joint table. One lifetime is barely suf- 
ficient to master every skill needed to fight and 
lead in one medium of war. Learning to fight 
jointly in three is a tough business — leveraging 
unique capabilities, specialties, and individual 
competencies to the warfighting advantage of all. 

Such efforts are especially important in a re- 
source constrained environment. Together we can 
selectively apply advances 
in technology to compen- 
sate for the redundancies 
that we have lost through 
the force drawdown. This 
process of leveraging one 
another's strengths builds 
on current doctrinal foun- 
dations to evolve a more 
mature, complementary perspective of joint oper- 
ations. The savings will be measurable in both 
lives and resources, and ultimately by mission 
success. 

The Persian Gulf War provided a glimpse of 
the dramatic changes in warfare and results of 
rapid evolutions in technology. It also demon- 
strated the tremendous power which the Army 
and Air Force could generate by working together 
and with the naval services and coalition part- 
ners. After an intense air offensive disabled Iraq's 
key capacities and reduced its warfighting capa- 
bility, the ground offensive, supported by maxi- 
mum tempo air operations, demonstrated the ef- 
fectiveness of teamwork in defeating an adversary 
and minimizing American casualties. 

Both of our services gained important in- 
sights into 21 st century military operations from 
the Gulf War; however, there are divergent inter- 
pretations of that brief conflict. Relations be- 
tween the Army and Air Force became strained as 
each tried to incorporate and capitalize on 
lessons learned in the Gulf. We recognized doctri- 
nal disparities and quickly began an effort of co- 
operative review to ensure our preeminence as 
the world's finest air-land team. 

Developing Understanding 

Since the Gulf War, in what has become an 
annual event, senior leaders of our respective ser- 
vices have met to discuss lessons learned as well 
as opportunities for improving joint operations. 
At the Army- Air Force Warfighter Talks in 1994 
we set up a working group to tackle tough issues. 



relations between the Army 
and Air Force became strained 
as each tried to incorporate 
lessons learned in the Gulf 



Chartered by the deputy chiefs of staff for opera- 
tions and plans of both services, the group took 
on the job of identifying and resolving these is- 
sues. Building on a heritage of teamwork and mu- 
tual respect, Army and Air Force officers have de- 
voted months to clarifying matters of common 
interest and finding useful solutions. This has led 
to shared understandings, increased trust, and 
pragmatic agreements. Numerous organizations, 
including Air Combat Command, U.S. Army 
Training and Doctrine Command (TRADOC), 
1 st Battlefield Control Element (BCE) at Fort 
Bragg, and 9 th and 12 th Air Forces, have helped 
the group. After a mid-year review revealed there 
were more areas of agreement than disagreement 
between our two services, the working group refo- 
cused on air and missile defense and on joint 
control measures. 

The first issue centers on controlling air and 
missile defense assets not directly assigned to 
corps commanders and on theater missile defense 
(TMD) attack operations in the area of operations 
(AO) of land component commanders (LCCs). 
Since CINCs often employ echelon-above-corps 
(EAC) air and missile defense assets as theater as- 
sets, the Air Force held that such units should be 
put under the operational control (OPCON) of 
joint forces air component commanders 
(JFACCs). As stipulated in joint doctrine, JFACCs 
are normally area air defense commanders 
(AADCs) and will usually control all theater air 
and missile active defense efforts. Likewise, the 
Air Force saw TMD attack operations — actions to 
locate and destroy hostile missile launchers and 
their associated command, control, and support- 
ing infrastructure regardless of their location — as 
counterair efforts under JFACC purview. The 
Army viewed TMD attack operations inside the 
land AO as an integral part of the LCC scheme of 
maneuver and supporting counterfire operations. 

The group also examined joint control mea- 
sures because of the apparent friction over which 
component commanders should plan and control 
deep operations beyond fire support coordination 
lines (FSCLs). The Air Force considered JFACCs as 
best suited to coordinate operations beyond 
FSCLs, while the Army thought LCCs should plan 
and synchronize fires in the entire land AO. 
When the working group could not completely 
resolve TMD or joint control measures, we agreed 
to address them in a four-star review at the Army- 
Air Force Warfighter Talks in December 1995, the 
results of which are described below. 

Joint Doctrine 

Service concerns arise when areas of responsi- 
bility potentially overlap, creating questions over 
control of combat assets. But on a fluid, dynamic 
battlefield joint force commanders (JFCs) cannot 



10 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



Reimer and Fogleman 



Some Key Responsibilities. 



JFACC is supported commander for 

• Overall air interdiction 

• Counterair operations 

• Theater airborne reconnaissance, surveillance, 
and target acquisition 

• Strategic attack when air provides bulk of capability 



•^CC Support^ 

■ 



^CCSv>PP° rted 



Land AO 1 




Amphibious 
Objective Area 



Within their respective AOs, land/naval commanders 

• Are designated supported commanders and are responsible 
for synchronization of maneuver, fires, and interdiction 

• Designate target priority, effects, and timing of interdiction operations 

• Do not typically have responsibility for the entire joint AOR 




Suppof^ 



Naval AO 




Interior of JSTARS 

aircraft ' permit disagreements on issues such as targeting 

and missile defense to remain unresolved. Regard- 
less of how complementary our views on joint op- 
erations might be, specific responsibilities produce 
legitimate differences among component com- 
manders. We must minimize the differences and 
move toward greater understanding of one an- 
other's strengths and limitations. 



Each component has area and functional re- 
sponsibilities as well as custody of the people and 
resources under its command. These responsibili- 
ties may intersect when components work to- 
gether. Thus we must allow flexibility for respon- 
sibilities to shift during various phases of a 
campaign and act to minimize mutual interfer- 
ence and maximize mutual support. What may 
be optimum for one component can come at the 
expense of others — by decreasing combat power 
or increasing risk. Joint doctrine is an excellent 
starting point for assisting LCCs and air compo- 
nent commanders (ACCs) in efforts to resolve any 
overlaps. Together we must learn to tailor air-land 
solutions to circumstances, missions, risks, and 
opportunities at hand. 

Commanders normally seek to conduct oper- 
ations to gain maximum advantage at minimum 
risk to their forces. For example, ground com- 
manders stress counterfire and maneuver opera- 
tions while air commanders stress strategic attack, 
counterair, and interdiction; yet all seek to attack 
deep targets and enemy air defenses to provide 
maximum flexibility for their forces. Such opera- 
tions are not always mutually supportive, espe- 
cially when resources are scarce. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 11 





■army-air force team 



Joint Publication 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Opera- 
tions, published in September 1993, offers direc- 
tion for every element of a joint force. It instructs 
JFCs, as senior commanders, to provide guidance 
and set priorities. Moreover, it establishes the lati- 
tude required to optimize and fine-tune arrange- 
ments between land and air forces under various 

circumstances. This 
publication serves as a 
common baseline for 
understanding both in 
and among services, 
and also within our 
warfighting arrange- 
ment, the unified com- 
mand structure. No component should develop 
doctrine that directly contradicts this validated 
baseline. 

Joint doctrine ascribes authority and respon- 
sibility to JFCs and provides a framework for con- 
ducting joint operations and designating the 
roles of supporting and supported commanders. 
Both services recognize that LCCs are normally 
supported commanders in assigned AO bound- 
aries and ACCs are normally supported comman- 
ders for theater air operations. Joint doctrine pro- 
vides flexibility to allow JFCs maximum latitude 
to devise the best solution for a mission. If con- 
flicting priorities arise, JFCs will determine the 
precedence of priorities. However, a solid basis of 
trust between component commanders will go a 
long way towards alleviating potential problems. 

Key to Success 

Coordination among components is critical 
on the battlefield. One of the best methods for 
ensuring proper coordination of operations is 
sound command and control (C 2 ). Modern war- 
fare requires us to increasingly share real-time, 
common views of the battlefield. We must under- 
stand overlapping as well as occasionally inter- 
secting needs of component commanders, recon- 
ciling their different views with improved risk 
management techniques. The commanders have 
optimum tools in their staffs and headquarters to 
conduct detailed planning and execute missions. 
Moreover, they liaise with other components to 
facilitate both the flow of information and timely 
decisions. Senior liaison elements are important 
in sharing the broad concerns of component 
commanders. 

BCE is a critical Army element attached to 
the senior command and control agency within 
the Air Force, the Air Operations Center (AOC). 
Similarly, the Air Force provides Tactical Air Con- 
trol Party (TACP) representatives at key Army 
headquarters. BCE and TACP should be fully 
staffed with highly trained personnel to support 
component commanders. Senior members of 



as partners in the air-land team, 
we are committed to smooth, 
seamless operations throughout 
the theater 



both agencies must understand the intent of 
commanders as well as provide timely, informed 
decisions. 

As partners in the air-land team, mutual un- 
derstanding of command relationships must be 
strong and clear. Just as Generals George S. Patton 
and O.P. Weyland, the respective commanders of 
III Army and 19 th TAC in World War II, recognized 
the need for a strong C 2 relationship between land 
and air components, we are committed to smooth, 
seamless operations throughout the theater. 

Areas of Concern 

Using the efforts of the working group as a 
point of departure, the senior leadership of our 
services prepared five agenda items for discussion 
last December: the role of the Joint Targeting Co- 
ordination Board (JTCB), joint control measures, 
command and control arrangements for air and 
missile defense, offensive counter-air and TMD 
attack operations, and dual hatting of JFCs. Many 
of these issues overlap and some may never be re- 
solved. But when possible, candor will pave the 
way for greater understanding. In addition, we 
covered tangential areas that impact our overall 
relations on the battlefield. Further advances in 
connectivity, coordination, and perception of sis- 
ter service doctrine will decrease differences and 
increase mutual trust. 

Joint Targeting Coordination Board. The JTCB 
concept has been controversial since the Gulf 
War. The Air Force held that the board would hin- 
der operations, while the Army contended that it 
was necessary to establish targeting priorities. 
Joint Pub 3-0 codifies JTCB without going into 
great detail. JFCs typically create JTCBs and de- 
fine their roles. The services accept the vision of 
JTCB, but we agree it must be focused at a macro 
level. JTCB as a planning support function assists 
components in following the intent of JFCs in ex- 
ecuting operations by preparing targeting guid- 
ance, refining joint target lists, and reviewing tar- 
get information. The board must maintain a 
campaign-level perspective and should not be in- 
volved at levels best left to the component com- 
manders, such as selecting specific targets and 
aimpoints or developing attack packages. 

Joint Control Measures. The heart of this doc- 
trinal discussion concerns operations beyond 
FSCLs but within the land force AO. Since both 
commanders seek to maximize results in this area 
consistent with their intent to shape the battle- 
space, it represents the greatest overlap of land 
and air objectives. The land component's capabil- 
ity to exploit deep attacks before an enemy can 



12 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



Reimer and Fogleman 




Patriot battery during 
Roving Sands ’94. 



adjust to them will vary with depth, terrain, resis- 
tance, and resources. Air component capabilities 
will vary less with distance, but since air forces 
operate beyond FSCLs on a normal, continual 
basis, ACCs must also manage risks to their 
forces. Coordination and deconfliction are essen- 
tial to reducing duplication, conserving resources, 
maximizing results, and managing risks in this 
area. Managing risks requires careful design and 
tuning of control measures and authority to min- 
imize restrictions on all forces and maximize 
combat power. JFCs will normally establish for- 
ward AO boundaries and adjust as necessary to 
balance the needs of LCCs to rapidly maneuver 
with the needs of ACCs to rapidly mass and em- 
ploy airpower with minimal constraints. 

Between FSCL and AO forward boundaries, 
LCCs are supported commanders and must coor- 
dinate operations with ACCs when possible. LCCs 
should judiciously use control measures such as 
FSCLs to facilitate attack operations. ACCs should 
coordinate attacks inside the land AO to comple- 
ment support of both the needs of LCCs and the 
overall theater campaign plans of JFCs. Improved 
friendly and enemy situational awareness, rapid 
information sharing, expertise in BCE and TACP, 



and more advanced tactics, techniques, and proce- 
dures (TTP) will also improve mutual support be- 
tween the land and air components. 

Whenever we discuss targeting the placement 
of FSCL inevitably comes up. Joint doctrine grants 
LCCs authority to place this line anywhere within 
their AO. To maximize the effectiveness of both 
land and air forces, LCCs should coordinate the 
placement of this line with ACCs to ensure maxi- 
mum coverage of all enemy targets with available 
assets. It is incumbent on each component com- 
mander to establish a level of mutual trust with 
the other commanders to make this relationship 
work. ACCs must provide LCCs making FSCL de- 
cisions with relevant facts that will help them, but 
must trust LCCs to place FSCLs in the best loca- 
tion to support the objectives of JFCs. 

Air and Missile Defense. Coordination of fires 
naturally leads to this next area of concern. This 
issue centers on the degree of control the area air 
defense commander should have over EAC air de- 
fense assets. The Air Force holds that JFACCs — 
who are normally designated as AADCs — are sup- 
ported commanders for overall theater air and 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 13 




■ A R M Y- A 



R FORCE TEAM 



missile defense and should exercise OPCON over 
air defense units unassociated with a corps. The 
Army is reluctant to release such control over its 
organic EAC air defense assets. 

While no one disputes the right of each unit 
to self defense, we must balance that right with 
the need for close coordination of fires against 
enemy threats beyond FSCLs to prevent fratricide. 
Since JFACCs will be operating forces in this area 
for counterair, interdiction, strategic attack, and 
surveillance and reconnaissance, coordination 
and deconfliction are cru- 
cial. Both services agree 
that while corps comman- 
ders will retain OPCON 
over their organic air de- 
fense units, AADCs as sup- 
ported commanders will es- 
tablish rules of engagement and assign air defense 
missions for EAC assets. FCCs must communicate 
their desires but trust AADCs to make the correct 
decisions. 

The Army and Air Force have made great 
strides in target identification, attack cueing, and 
responsiveness since the Gulf War, and more im- 
provements are on the horizon. The threat posed 
by weapons of mass destruction emphasizes the 
need to share information, tailor countermissile 
dispositions and response postures, and work to- 
gether to create the greatest possible risk to 
enemy missiles. FCCs must communicate their 
needs to JFACCs/AADCs in developing air and 
missile defense plans. This close coordination is 
essential to ensure timely and correct decisions. 

TMD Attack Operations. Closely tied to air 
and missile defense are TMD attack operations. 
While the Air Force believes TMD is part of the 
counterair effort requiring theater-wide integra- 
tion, the Army holds that these operations are 
broader in scope and considers existing fire sup- 
port as the most responsive for attacking enemy 
missiles in an FCC's AO. Regardless of opinions, 
common sense dictates that between FSCF and 
the AO forward boundary, FCCs and ACCs must 
coordinate TMD attack operations to maximize 
effects and minimize fratricide. There will be 
times when an airborne asset provides a more 
timely response to pop-up targets than a corps 
commander's assets. At other times a corps may 
have the appropriate weapon. The Air Force is 
considering increasing the amount of "on-call" 
assets available for TMD attack operations. With 
improved connectivity, coordination and ap- 
proval will become easier. Until that time, current 



political and operational 
pressures on JFCs were the 
crux of the dual-hatting issue 



doctrine provides JFCs with the flexibility to de- 
velop the necessary C 2 arrangements based on the 
situation in theater. 

Dual Hatting. Political and operational pres- 
sures on JFCs were the crux of the dual-hatting 
issue. Because dual hatting a corps commander as 
a division commander or a numbered air force 
commander as a wing commander would be ir- 
regular, the Air Force contended that a dual-hat- 
ted JFC or CINC would also be irregular, resulting 
in a possible loss of focus on theater or compo- 
nent details. During our discussions, senior Army 
leaders acknowledged that this could occur, but 
the likelihood is low. Dual hatting must be han- 
dled on a case-by-case basis. CINCs must deter- 
mine, subject to the approval by the Secretary of 
Defense, whether to simultaneously retain com- 
mand of an entire operation as JFC and a compo- 
nent — land, maritime, or air — or to designate an- 
other senior leader as component commander. 
This is in line with joint doctrine. Situation-spe- 
cific political or operational considerations will 
influence JFC decisions to retain leadership of a 
specific functional component in addition to the 
overall JFC role. 

Looking to the Future 

In addition to those issues discussed at the 
Warfighter Talks, there are many areas in which 
interservice cooperation has made great strides. 
While the Army-Air Force working group offers 
an avenue to pursue such developments, other 
organizations including TRADOC and ACC, Army 
fire support elements, and various Air Force wings 
and numbered air forces are constantly striving to 
enhance Army-Air Force team operations. 

To improve TTP, the services have been de- 
veloping a multiservice targeting TTP under the 
Air, hand, Sea Application Center (AFSA). Com- 
mon TTP will allow component commanders to 
know how other components operate. Common 
procedures, as well as improved C 4 I, will help en- 
sure proper prioritization, deconfliction, and at- 
tack of targets. 

There has also been an extensive effort to 
improve connectivity in combat identification 
and tracking. Tests conducted by the All Service 
Combat Identification Evaluation Team (ASCIET) 
in Gulfport, Mississippi, in September 1995 iden- 
tified specific areas which needed attention. We 
must develop both the hardware and processes to 
pass real-time combat identification data among 
elements of all services to reduce the possibilities 
of air-to-surface, surface-to-air, and air-to-air frat- 
ricide. Although the work of ASCIET has just 
begun, its contributions will receive careful atten- 
tion because we stand to gain much from its suc- 
cesses in the area of combat risk management. 
The Army and Air Force plan to incorporate 



14 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



Reimer and Fogleman 



ASCIET into the next Roving Sands and Blue Flag 
air-land combat exercises. 

Integration of this information with evolving 
capabilities such as the joint surveillance and tar- 
get attack radar system (J STARS) and unmanned 
autonomous vehicles will provide commanders 
with improved battlefield information. Real-time 
imagery is a step towards the information domi- 
nance that we are striving for. 

We are making significant progress in in- 
creasing connectivity between Army and Air 
Force planning and fire control elements. These 
initiatives have the potential to greatly increase 
the ability to share and deconflict data on emerg- 
ing targets in real time. Ongoing work to link the 
Air Force contingency theater automated plan- 
ning system (CTAPS) and Army advanced field ar- 
tillery tactical data system (AFATDS) will ensure 
our forces put the right weapon on the right tar- 
get at the right time, increasing effective fire- 
power while reducing waste and delay. Connec- 
tivity between air and missile defenses (such as 
the Army TMD Force Projection Tactical Opera- 
tions Center and the Air Force combat integration 
capability) also helps to rapidly deconflict air and 
surface targets. This is increasingly important as 
weapons and threats change and a commander's 
reaction time decreases. 

The Army-Air Force Warfighter Talks, as well 
as working group and interservice efforts, are 
each small steps towards greater understanding 
between our services. Improving connectivity, 
strengthening command relationships, and devel- 
oping trust are key elements in ensuring the 
Army and Air Force remain the premier air-land 
team. We have witnessed numerous advance- 
ments over the past year that increase a comman- 
der's awareness of the battlefield. By the turn of 



the century, through interservice initiatives and 
systems like JSTARS, our commanders should 
enjoy increased interoperability and a more com- 
plete view of the battlefield. Both technological 
enhancements and sound joint doctrine are es- 
sential in strengthening ties between our services. 
But great technology and good doctrine alone are 
insufficient. Without trust and mutual under- 
standing, an enemy could exploit our weaknesses 
and possibly defeat us. 

Trust is based on insight and familiarity, 
knowing who will do the right thing in the 
proper way. A soldier's expectation of airpower 
must be based on the realization that airmen 
have theater-wide perspectives and responsibili- 
ties. An airman must appreciate the vital role of 
airpower in land combat and understand that air 
flown in support of FCCs must complement the 
plans of FCCs. The Army and Air Force depend 
upon and leverage the capabilities of one another 
to be decisive in battle. Our separate strengths, as 
well as differences, will ensure that we remain an 
air-land team without equal. In fact, no other 
military will even come close. JPQ 



Destroyed Iraqi fighter. 




Spring 1996 / JFQ 15 



AFATDS: The Fire Support 
Window to the 21 st Century 

By STEVEN W. BOUTELLE and RONALD FILAK 




Multiple rocket launch 
system. 



T he trend toward "third wave warfare" 
(namely, de-massing and customizing 
forces and weapons) and creation of a 
digitized battlefield has been widely 
discussed within the Army. And although doctri- 
nal and organizational implications must be fi- 
nalized, it is clear that smaller, more dispersed 
forces as well as joint and combined capabilities 
will be hallmarks of future operations. Further- 
more, command and control (C 2 ) systems that 
support JFCs must provide horizontal and vertical 
interoperability and be able to exchange situa- 
tional awareness information across the force. 

This also is true of fire support — that is, can- 
nons, rockets, missiles, mortars, naval guns, and 
bombs — which provide lethal, flexible, and deci- 
sive assets to JFCs in prosecuting the battle. 
While fire support has long been characterized by 
massed fires such as artillery barrages or carpet 



Colonel Steven W. Boutelle, USA, is project manager for Field Artillery 
Tactical Data Systems and Lieutenant Colonel Ronald Filak, USA (Ret.), 
is a member of Computer Sciences Corporation. 



bombing, it is becoming more identified with ac- 
curate sensors, weapons systems, and munitions. 

A Joint Resource 

Advances in weaponry and targeting have 
increased the burden of managing fire support 
operations, always a complex and exacting 
process. This difficulty, however, is being lessened 
greatly by automation. The Army advanced field 
artillery tactical data system (AFATDS) is about to 
make its third wave warfare debut. This state-of- 
the-art system supports the need for horizontal 
and vertical interoperability, distribution of situa- 
tional awareness information, and automation in 
the process of matching fire support weapons sys- 
tems against high-payoff targets. 

From the field artillery digital automated 
computer of the 1960s to the tactical fire direction 
system (TACFIRE) of the 1980s and the initial fire 
support automated system of today, the field ar- 
tillery community has been in the forefront in au- 
tomated support for commanders in combat. 
AFATDS developers have drawn on experience 
from earlier systems — coupled with requirements 



16 JFQ / Spring 1996 



DOD 



Boutelle and Filak 



analysis and ongoing feedback from soldiers and 
marines in the field and advanced warfighting ex- 
periments — to develop a C 2 system responsive to a 
commander's needs by supporting: 

■ the integration of all fire support assets into the 
planning and execution of support for the maneuver 
commander's operation 

■ the application of commander's guidance to pri- 
oritize targets, enabling fire support assets to be directed 
at the most relevant and important enemy assets 

■ the automated exchange of digitized target in- 
formation and situational awareness with other units 
throughout the joint force. 



the Armed Forces are taking 
a quantum leap in conducting 
fire support operations in aid 
of a single service or JFC 



While AFATDS was originally an Army sys- 
tem, it is now joint and under development by 
the Army for its own requirements and those of 
the Marine Corps. A major portion of version 2 
development incorporates 
Marine-unique require- 
ments. Furthermore, pre- 
liminary discussions are un- 
derway on the applicability 
of the "core software en- 
gine" of AFATDS to the fire 
support roles of the Air 
Force and Navy. This article discusses operational, 
technical, and interoperability features of AFATDS 
that provide JFCs and fire support coordinators 
(FSCOORDs) with these capabilities. 



Operational 

With AFATDS, the Armed Forces and fire sup- 
port community are taking a quantum leap in the 
ability to provide timely help for conducting fire 
support operations in aid of a single service or JFC. 
The operational capability of AFATDS is made up 
of 27 major functional capabilities in five func- 
tional categories. The breadth of fire support func- 
tionality and horizontal interoperability of 
AFATDS make it the most comprehensive informa- 
tion warfare combat system available. The fire sup- 
port planning function provides FSCOORDs with 
several key capabilities. 

First, since the concepts of operation and 
guidance are entered into its database, AFATDS 
can assist in performing course of action analysis 
on alternative battle plans. Operators can adjust 
any combination of variables to identify the im- 
pact of the changes on the ability of fire support 
to sustain a commander's plans. The same degree 
of flexibility allows for the application of analysis 
against several options proposed by JFCs to deter- 
mine which plan is most supportable from a fire 
support perspective. AFATDS performs this analy- 
sis using information on all types of available fire 
support: air attack (including attack helicopter 
and fixed-wing close air support), naval gunfire, 
mortars and offensive electronic warfare, as well 



as field artillery assets (cannons, rockets, and mis- 
siles). This automated analysis process also en- 
ables a fire support commander to automatically 
generate and digitally distribute fire support an- 
nexes and plans. 

Second, the exchange of situational aware- 
ness information allows AFATDS to constantly 
provide up-to-date graphic depictions of battle- 
field information. This provides commanders 
timely information with which to formulate or 
adjust guidance while eliminating the need to 
transport and post (via grease pencils and tape) 
bulky situation maps. 

Target Acquisition 

Since it is interoperable with a variety of C 2 
systems, AFATDS provides commanders with 
major advances in the ability to see the battlefield 
and plan future operations. Intelligence collec- 
tion systems can develop large amounts of data 
on potential targets throughout a battlefield. 
AFATDS provides commanders interoperability 
with the all source analysis system (ASAS), an au- 
tomated Army C 2 system used by the intelli- 
gence/electronic warfare community. ASAS, in 
turn, provides access to targeting information via 
Trojan Spirit and tactical intelligence collection 
systems. Trojan Spirit offers a communications 
gateway to national intelligence databases and 
multiservice tactical intelligence systems includ- 
ing material from the Central Intelligence 
Agency, Defense Intelligence Agency, and Na- 
tional Security Agency, as well as tactical target 
data from systems such as the joint surveillance 
target attack radar system (J STARS), the Guardrail 
and Rivet Joint electronic intelligence collection 
systems, and the Air Force tactical reconnaissance 
aircraft (see figure on next page). 

Planning 

At the same time weapon systems are be- 
coming more capable of attacking identified tar- 
gets with pin-point accuracy. It may no longer be 
necessary to launch a wave of bombers or mass 
an attack by tube artillery to take out a critical 
target. Instead, planners — through the AFATDS- 
ASAS interoperability capability — can open the 
door to a storehouse of available targeting infor- 
mation and use automated target analysis and 
target attack capability from AFATDS to match 
weapons assets against selected targets. If a situa- 
tion warrants — against tactical missiles such as 
Scuds — this can be done in seconds and without 
human intervention. 

While providing access to this vast array of 
information, AFATDS also uses distribution crite- 
ria and graphic overlay filters to ensure that users 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 17 



■ fire support window 



National, Strategic, and Tactical Sensors Linked to 
Fire Support Weapons Systems. 




MLRS 

FIRE DIRECTION 
CENTER 



receive only needed information. Operator con- 
trolled distribution lists filter the information 
which is conveyed by AFATDS to its subordinate 
stations. For example, an AFATDS operator can 
establish distribution criteria for remote stations 
that will provide only information of importance. 

Although vast amounts of information reside 
in the AFATDS computer, map, and overlay tools, 
human interfaces have been designed so that op- 

AFATDS allows JFCs or their 
representatives to centrally 
control fires by approving 
each mission 

tors and commanders can select the information 
and area they want to view. Moreover, potential 
targets can be portrayed graphically and, at an 
operator's discretion, additional information on 
targets can be viewed by clicking on an icon and 
reviewing database entries. 

The AFATDS database contains data which is 
relevant to all levels of command. However, the 
information routinely portrayed at a field artillery 
or maneuver battalion level likely differs from 
that portrayed at division or corps level. AFATDS 
addresses this situation by providing operators 
with the ability to establish parameters on the 
scope (breadth of information) and granularity 
(depth of information) that is routinely pre- 
sented. By monitoring activities down two levels, 



erators can selectively screen 
information. Examples in- 
clude multiple tactical over- 
lays with varying parameters 
as well as the ability to control 
the area depicted by scrolling 
and zooming to portray differ- 
ent information. Both opera- 



AFATDS operators in a corps fire support element 
(FSE) normally observe status down to the battal- 
ion level. However, the AFATDS database has in- 
formation on firing platoons and batteries that 
constitute each battalion. This data is successively 
"rolled up" to develop status on the battalion. 
Corps FSE operators can institute a parameter 
that tells the computer to distill the information 
on subordinate units and report status at battal- 
ion level. (Concurrently, counterparts at division 
FSE or division artillery level can establish para- 
meters, with the same database, at battery or fir- 
ing platoon level.) Corps FSE operators can 
change a parameter to allow insight into specific 
information that applies to any of the firing pla- 
toons within a given area. 

The fire support execution portion of 
AFATDS implements many functions which have 
not been previously automated. In providing au- 
tomated target analysis — ensuring that the right 
target is engaged at the right time by the right 
weapon/ammunition mix — AFATDS offers major 
increases in speed fire mission processing. (Perfor- 
mance tests indicate that AFATDS processes mis- 
sions in 10 to 50 percent of the time for Army 
training standards.) Fire support execution fea- 
tures include: 

■ elimination of "first in, first out" processing and 
engaging of targets: target management matrix and 
high payoff target list tools provide for sensor inputs to 
be matched against concept of the operation and fire 
support guidance to move important targets to the 
front of the queue 

■ a database of unit information, extant battle- 
field geometry, and fire support coordination measures 
to verify that target engagement complies with restric- 
tions and guidance criteria 

■ software that automatically assesses the capabil- 
ities of each available type of fire support weapon sys- 
tem: weapon status, ammunition effectiveness and 
availability, commander's guidance (such as limits on 
selected units to conserve ammunition), and factors 
which determine the optimal means of engaging a tar- 
get and generating an "order to fire" for selected units 
to engage. 

AFATDS is designed to provide JFCs, FSCOORDs, 
and system operators with flexibility in responding to 
emerging needs. Each of its features is directly con- 
trolled by operator inputs. In all cases, operators have 
the option of inputting parameters that identify the 
points and conditions at which human intervention 
and decisions are required to continue the process. 
This allows JFCs or their representatives to centrally 
control fires by approving each mission or, con- 
versely, to provide more decentralized execution by 
enabling missions that meet certain criteria to auto- 
matically be forwarded without human intervention. 



18 



JFQ / Spring 1996 




Boutelle and Filak 




Battle command 
vehicle with ASAS. 



The remaining AFATDS functions are move- 
ment control, field artillery mission support, and 
field artillery fire direction operations. Movement 
control provides the ability to request and coordi- 
nate convoy movements while the field artillery 
mission support furnishes logistical backing. Field 
artillery fire direction operations bolster the fire 
support execution function by maintaining the sta- 
tus of weaponry, ammunition, and unit capability, 
and by making technical fire direction calculations. 

Technical Concepts 

AFATDS will ultimately become a part of the 
Army battle command system (ABCS), an over- 
arching scheme conceived as the keystone of a 
digitized battlefield. When developed, it will fur- 
nish seamless connectivity from the tactical 
(squad/platoon) to strategic level (national com- 
mand authorities), ensuring an integrated digital 
information network to support warfighting sys- 
tems and C 2 decision-cycle superiority. This sys- 
tem will be realized by a migration of systems — 
including the current Army tactical command 
and control system (ATCCS) — using both an evo- 
lutionary and transitional process. 

Today, AFATDS is one of five battlefield func- 
tional area (BFA) control systems that make up 
ATCCS. As with all ATCCS BFA control systems, 
AFATDS makes use of ATCCS common hardware 
and software. Under this concept, a project man- 
ager provides the ATCCS component systems 
with a suite of common computers and periph- 
eral devices on which to host their respective 
BFA-specific applications software. The project 
manager for common hardware and software also 
provides common support software for basic 



functions (such as operating system, graphical 
user interface, and communications manage- 
ment) as well as modules for common applica- 
tions (such as terrain evaluation). This support 
software is being upgraded to meet joint stan- 
dards for a common operating environment with 
automated information systems to increase inter- 
operability. This will help assure that comman- 
ders or their staffs can, from any terminal, access 
the common picture of the battlefield and com- 
municate with other operational facilities, regard- 
less of service. 

Fire support-specific software has been inte- 
grated with ATCCS hardware and software to 
form AFATDS. Fire support software is modular, 
user friendly, and can be tailored. In addition, it 
includes an embedded training module. The 
whole package is integrated in wheeled and 
tracked shelters developed under the ATCCS stan- 
dard integrated command post system program. 
Shelters have one, two, or three AFATDS worksta- 
tions, depending on mission requirements. 

Throughout the development process, the 
hardware platform housing AFATDS has been 
consistently upgraded to state of the art. Initial 
fielding of AFATDS will be on a Hewlett-Packard 
735 reduced instruction set computing machine; 
subsequent fielding will be on a Sun Sparc dual 
processor terminal. These configurations offer a 
tremendous computing potential for meeting the 
challenges of the dispersed Force XXI battlefield. 

The operational fire support requirements 
were thorough and accurate. The nature of the 
threat, doctrine, force structure, missions, and 
technology have dramatically changed since ini- 
tial development in the mid-1980s. With these 
changes has come the need for AFATDS to evolve 
to address future requirements. This has been 
done through involving AFATDS in training exer- 
cises and advanced warfighting experiments. 

AFATDS was designed to operate with all 
standard Army tactical communications systems. 
Within an operational facility, AFATDS terminals 
share data using an internal local area network. 
In a maneuver command post, AFATDS ex- 
changes information with other components of 
ATCCS using local area network. For communica- 
tions between command posts, AFATDS transmits 
and receives information on the single channel 
ground and airborne radio system, enhanced po- 
sition location reporting system, and mobile sub- 
scriber equipment packet network. Operating 
with these systems gives AFATDS a high degree of 
flexibility in satisfying its communications needs. 

The challenge of minimizing bandwidth 
usage has also been met. For AFATDS-AFATDS 
communication, transfer syntax is employed to 
update the databases of remote stations. Under 
this technique, all data items are time-stamped 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 19 




■ fire support window 







JSTARS aircraft. 



and only those which have changed since the last 
update are sent. For communication with non- 
AFATDS stations, the variable message format 
(VMF) is used in lieu of the U.S. message text for- 
mat (USMTF). Studies indicate that VMF messages 
yield bandwidth utilization savings of 50 percent 
over the USMTF format. 

The technical design of AFATDS meets Army 
goals for commonality and interoperability and 
fully promotes fire support mission requirements. 

Interoperability 

AFATDS is designed to be interoperable with 
various systems and subsystems and to exchange 
information with other ATCCS elements, namely, 
the maneuver control system, 
combat service support control 
system, and forward area air de- 
fense command and control sys- 
tem, in addition to ASAS. This in- 
cludes utilizing messages that 
conform to USMTF and joint 
VMF standards, and database 
transfer processes which employ 
distributed computing environ- 
ment and data distribution services software. 

Using messages that conform to the TACFIRE 
or VMF standard, AFATDS can exchange informa- 
tion in the fire support community, including fire 
direction for the multiple launch rocket system 
(MLRS), cannon battery computer system, and 



AFATDS V2 will include 
automation processes 
related to requesting and 
executing close air 
support missions 



JSTARS ground station module. With messages that 
observe a four-nation common technical interface 
design plan, AFATDS is interoperable with British, 
French, and German automated fire support C 2 sys- 
tems. The design plan was framed by these nations 
under the auspices of the artillery systems coopera- 
tion activities program. The basis of the technical 
interface is a common tactical concept document 
also developed under the program. The common 
tactical concept emphasizes a commitment to en- 
suring that all four nations are able to conduct fire 
support operations on a combined basis. 

Using messages conforming to the TACFIRE 
and VMF message standards, AFATDS can ex- 
change information with emerging systems such 
as the combat vehicle command and control sys- 
tem. In the future AFATDS will interoperate di- 
rectly with overhead sensor systems via the com- 
manders' tactical terminal (until that capability is 
provided, AFATDS will get that information 
through ASAS). 

Program Outline 

AFATDS development is a phased effort. The 
first phase will yield AFATDS version 1 software 
that automates half of the Army's fire support op- 
erational requirements. The next phase is divided 
into subphases and will result in AFATDS version 
2.0 and 2.1 software. Operationally, version 2.0 
software is focused on satisfying requirements es- 
tablished by the Marine Corps while version 2.1 
will automate additional Army requirements. 
While satisfying service-unique needs, this sec- 



20 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



DOD 




Boutelle and Filak 



ond phase will also incorporate major additional 
software modules to enhance the ability of 
AFATDS to participate in joint operations. 

The inclusion of unified-build software — the 
heart of the joint global command and control 
system — provides software compatibility at the 
joint level for 19 fundamental computer proc- 
esses ranging from network administration to 
database management. Aided by the further use 
of a standard application program, this will help 
to direct AFATDS towards the ultimate goal of full 
interoperability with the automated systems of all 
services. 

As a result of ongoing work by the Naval Re- 
search and Development Center in San Diego, 
AFATDS V2 capabilities will include automation 
of processes related to requesting and executing 
close air support (CAS) and battlefield air inter- 
diction (BAI) missions. This capability will ease 
the daily coordination and planning of fires with 
the facility to electronically transmit preplanned 
and immediate air support requests to the Air 
Force contingency tactical automated planning 
system (CTAPS). AFATDS will also be able to re- 
ceive confirmation of preplanned CAS missions 
via the CTAPS-produced air tasking order (ATO). 
The operator can parse, store, and display ATO 
data by sortie type (such as CAS, BAI, or search 
and rescue) and incorporate sortie data for ATOs 
in the process of deconflicting air attack missions 
from cannon, rocket, and missile activity. 

The final phase (version 3) will lead to the 
production of the AFATDS objective system. This 
phase will automate remaining operational fire 
support requirements and incorporate technical 
fire direction functionality currently resident in 
the battery computer system (for cannon opera- 
tions) and the fire direction system (for rocket 
and missile operations). 

AFATDS version 1 software underwent initial 
operational testing and evaluation in August 
1995 and a Milestone III production decision was 
made by the Army System Acquisition Review 
Council (ASARC) in December 1995. The 1 st Cav- 
alry Division, as an operational test unit, has 
AFATDS Beta software and will become the first 
organization in the field to receive version 1. 
After ASARC III, it was fielded to elements of the 
4 th Infantry Division comprising the EXFOR (Task 
Force XXI). 

Employment 

To ensure that the design meets the require- 
ments of warfighters, AFATDS has been placed 
with units and taken part in advanced warfight- 
ing experiments. The 1 st Cavalry Division re- 
ceived the system in July 1993 and has taken it 



through force development test and experimenta- 
tion, field and command post exercises, and rota- 
tions at the National Training Center. Moreover, 
the division used AFATDS in Kuwait from August 
to October 1995 during Exercise Intrinsic Action. 
Feedback has led to improved human interface 
and selected operational characteristics. 

In Germany, V Corps headquarters employed 
AFATDS during Atlantic Resolve in 1994. As a di- 
rect result, implementation of a deep strike sup- 
port capability, first scheduled for version 3, was 
accelerated, and AFATDS currently can support 
emerging operational requirements such as attack 
on hostile tactical missile launchers. 

AFATDS is the fire support command, con- 
trol, and coordination system of choice for the 
following advanced warfighting experiments: 
Prairie Warrior (Fort Leavenworth), Warrior Focus 
(a Joint Readiness Training Center experiment at 
Fort Polk with the 10 th Mountain Division), and a 
theater missile defense experiment at Fort Bliss 
during Roving Sands. Each advanced warfighting 
experiment allowed AFTADS developers to refine 
functional and interoperability capabilities. 

More recently, AFTADS was used during CJTF 
Exercise (CJTFEX) '96 which involved more than 
53,000 British and U.S. personnel in the southeast- 
ern United States and along the eastern seaboard. 

The Task Force XXI advanced warfighting ex- 
periment slated for February 1997 will be the first 
event designed to survey the Army digitization 
concept on a wide scale. A brigade-plus of the 
4 th Infantry Division will be outfitted with com- 
puters and force management software. AFATDS 
will be fielded to two dozen operational facilities 
that deploy with the maneuver forces (including 
FSEs, officer vehicles, and combat observation- 
liaision teams) and ten operational facilities that 
are designated to support field artillery operations 
(including battalion and platoon fire direction 
centers and field artillery battalion commanders, 
S-2s, and S-3s). The software delivered has been 
modified for the VMF message set designed for 
Task Force XXI operations. 

AFATDS is an automated tool that will assist 
both JFCs and FSCOORDs in managing and as- 
sessing large amounts of available information 
and making effective use of forces and weapons. 
In meeting the operational needs of today, 
AFATDS offers the flexibility to support the evolv- 
ing requirements of Force XXI doctrine and third 
wave warfare. JiQ 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 21 




A PRIMER ON 

l\laval Theater Air Defense 



Theater air defense is one of the Navy's fundamental and en- 
during missions. It evolved both technically and tactically fol- 
lowing World War II to counter the threat to friendly forces 
posed by manned aircraft, anti-ship missiles, sea-skimming 
cruise missiles, and tactical ballistic missiles. The ability to 
quickly develop and maintain an accurate air surveillance pic- 
ture, coordinate defense-in-depth with available air defense 
forces, and provide a high firepower response have been criti- 
cal to naval operations for over fifty years. 



Maiorano et al. 




Kamikaze attack on 
USS Bunker Hill off 

Okinawa, 1945. In the 1970s and 1980s, system develop- 

ment, tactics, and training were largely driven by 
the threat of massed Soviet missile attacks far at 
sea from long-range bombers, missile ships, and 
submarines. The decline of the Soviet threat and 
simultaneous proliferation of offensive weaponry 
to littoral states prompted a reevaluation of the 
Navy's contributions to the new world order. First 
outlined in . . . From the Sea, and updated in For- 
ward . . . From the Sea, the focus of the Navy has 
shifted from an open-ocean threat to near-land 

operations against in- 
creasingly capable re- 
gional powers. Now 
the global maritime 
threat has been re- 
placed by regional 
challenges that are 
equally as demanding for theater air defense 
forces. This change in focus has altered the pri- 
mary naval air defense mission from a blue-water, 
open-ocean defense to a more offensive extension 
of naval air defenses overland. Naval theater air 
defense objectives are clear: 



kamikazes revealed shortfalls in 
air defenses and ushered in an era 
of systems development 



◄ USS Bunker Hill 
firing missile from 
vertical launching 
system. 

U.S. Navy 



■ initiate and maintain control of airspace early 
in a crisis or conflict 

■ permit safe entry of follow-on U.S. and allied 
forces into a theater of operations 

■ protect and support forces and facilities ashore. 

Navy air defense capability is built on a solid 
foundation of leadership in combat systems inte- 
gration, experience in combined arms warfare, 
and decentralized command and control. These 
are the key strengths on which to build a theater 
air defense capability in the 21 st century. 



Commander Alan G. Maiorano, USN, is the prospective commanding 
officer of USS Vincennes ; Commander IMevin P. Carr, Jr., USN, is Aegis 
requirements officer in the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations; 
and Trevor J. Bender is an analyst with Logicon-Syscon, Inc. 



U.S. Navy 



Evolution Based on Experience 

In the 1920s, General Billy Mitchell intro- 
duced a new threat by sinking a target battleship, 
thereby demonstrating the vulnerability of ships 
to air attack. Early naval air defenses relied upon 
massive, uncoordinated fire from anti-aircraft ar- 
tillery such as 20mm, 40mm, three-inch, and 
five-inch guns. In those days, the battlespace ex- 
tended only to the visual horizon, normally less 
than 15 miles. Air defense was made up of a series 
of local anti-air battles fought close aboard, 
strictly in self defense. Ships counted on visual 
sightings and primitive, inaccurate voice commu- 
nication. Subsequent advances in precision aerial 
bombing and torpedo bombing during World 
War II posed severe threats which demanded de- 
fensive capabilities. 

Deploying air search radar on naval ships 
dramatically altered the air defense environment. 
Long-range detection of the enemy enabled car- 
rier-based fighters to attrite incoming raids a 
number of miles from the target task force. Early 
detection of distant raids provided defending 
ships with critical reaction time to initiate limited 
coordination of fire among friendly units under 
attack. Early detection and advance warning were 
essential to effective air defenses when kamikazes 
appeared in 1944 as the first true guided missiles. 
Tactics evolved quickly, including tightly grouped 
defensive ship formations and picket ships for 
early warning. Although primitive by current 
standards, the concept of effective, coordinated 
defense-in-depth took shape. But tactics were lim- 
ited by stand-alone equipment, intermittent 
voice radio communications, primitive analog 
fire control computers, the inability to rapidly ex- 
change accurate target position data, and the lack 
of a long range weapon. The war ended before an 
effective anti-aircraft defense was deployed. 
Nonetheless, the lethality of kamikazes revealed 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 23 




■naval theater air defense 



Theater Air Defense Joint Architecture 



• Theater CINC flexibility 

• Seamless information transfer 

• Interoperability with services / allies 

• Weapon coordination 

• Near real-time information 

• Situational awareness 






ii 





shortfalls in air defenses and ushered in an era of 
systems development. 

The advent of unmanned missiles and long- 
range Soviet bombers led the Navy to develop de- 
fensive weapons and enhance ship-to-ship coor- 
dination. Transitioning from attacking aircraft to 
faster, smaller anti-ship missiles required cultural 
as well as technological changes in warfighting. 
Paradigms of air defense based on lookouts and 
shipboard guns were scrapped in favor of systems 
that integrated radar data, high speed fire control 
computation, and surface-to-air missiles (SAMs). 

In the 1950s the Navy began deploying three 
guided SAM variants known as 3-T missiles: long- 
range Talos (65+ miles), medium-range Terrier (20 
miles), and short-range Tartar (10 miles). Simulta- 
neously, a large-scale program to convert previ- 
ously non-missile ships to missile shooters was 
initiated with vessels capable of firing one of 



these missiles. A guided missile capability was in- 
corporated in the designs and construction of 
several new classes of cruisers and destroyers by 
1957, built from the keel up with air defense as a 
primary mission. 

The combination of advancements in air 
search radars, deployment of 3-T SAMS, and shift 
to carrier-based fighter jets significantly improved 
air defense capabilities. The extension of target de- 
tection ranges, coupled with long-range fighters 
and missiles, expanded the battlespace of naval 
task forces to over 100 miles. Targets could now be 
engaged far beyond the visual horizon. New com- 
mand, control, and coordination requirements 
were placed on naval air defense forces. 

Despite significant advances in radar and 
SAM technology, performance shortfalls against 
an increasingly demanding threat highlighted 
weaknesses in stand-alone systems. Improve- 
ments in search radars, fire control radars, com- 
puters, launchers, missiles, and displays were 
piecemeal, built and supported individually with 
design and development agencies working inde- 
pendently. Search radars and display systems were 
managed in the Bureau of Ships while fire control 
radars, computers, guns, and missile launchers 
were handled by the Bureau of Ordnance. Often 
the first chance to test and operate multiple sys- 
tem components occurred after installation. 
Combat systems were wired together by ship- 
builders, not system engineers. Lack of technical 
and organizational coordination created expen- 
sive and nearly insurmountable system interface 
problems. The reaction time gained by increased 
radar detection and target engagement range was 
offset by manual data evaluation, display, and 
dissemination. Continuous attention and action 
were required to deal with a growing volume of 
tactical data required by a disparate set of war- 
fighting equipments. 

The transition from guns to missile batteries 
was the first step in a series of initiatives to ad- 
dress high speed threats. In the late 1950s, the 
Navy recognized that technology would one day 
permit an enemy to develop weapon systems that 
could overwhelm first generation missile sensors 
and equipment. The flaw was in the speed and re- 
liability of target information exchange between 
ships and aircraft. Voice communication was too 
slow and unreliable to be effective against large 
numbers of supersonic missiles launched by regi- 
ment-size Soviet bomber formations. As missiles 
could carry nuclear warheads, ship formations be- 
came more dispersed to minimize damage from 
single missile strikes, further aggravating air de- 
fense coordination. Faster and more reliable 
means of surveillance and identification data ex- 
change were required. 



24 JFQ / Spring 1996 




Maiorano et al. 



The Navy tactical data system (NTDS) was 
introduced in 1958, the world's first shipboard 
tactical data system based on programmable com- 
puters. This was an initial step in the integration 
of multiship systems in a force-wide air defense 
system. Conceived as a means of exchanging air 
surveillance radar information throughout a task 
force, NTDS replaced and automated older man- 
ual displays and reduced dependence on voice 
communications for air defense. NTDS incorpo- 
rated target position and identification informa- 
tion from a ship's sensors, as well as information 
inserted over an electronic data link by other 
ships in a task force, into one computer-managed 
track file. Data were exchanged and updated 
among ships several times per minute via an elec- 
tronic data link known as 
Link-11. Early warning and 
reaction time, information 
exchange speed, and informa- 
tion reliability improved 
strikingly. Link- 11 data stan- 
dards and protocols were 
adopted by Britain and 
Canada and soon by NATO as a whole. The sys- 
tem's efficacy is reflected in the fact that NTDS, 
upgraded over the years to keep pace with threat 
and technology advances, remains at the heart of 
naval and joint air defense management systems 
today. 

NTDS linked long-range surveillance sensors 
and surface-to-air weapons for the first time with 
an automated information management system 
to support the coordinated defense of widely dis- 
tributed forces. Air defense tactics continued to 
evolve as individual ships became more potent 
defenders and anti-air warfare commanders 
(AAWCs), responsible for defending battle groups 
or task forces, became capable of monitoring bat- 
tlespace beyond the range of their organic sen- 
sors. With more reaction time and reliable target 
identification and position data, further decen- 
tralization of air defense command and control 
became possible. Able to oversee numerous indi- 
vidual ship engagements, AAWC could quickly 
and reliably provide command by negation or di- 
rect specific target assignments when necessary. 
In response, a centralized control/decentralized 
execution anti-air warfare organization was im- 
plemented. Area defense provided from forces at 
sea or near land became a reality. With an infor- 
mation exchange system (NTDS) and the requi- 
site firepower (3-T missiles) coordinated through 
an effective command and control mechanism, 
naval forces could regulate the air battlespace 
within a designated theater. 



E-2A Hawkeye expanded air 
defense surveillance and 
battlespace beyond a ship's 
radar horizon 



These tactical and technical advances came 
none too soon. The Soviets began deployment of 
a series of air and surface launched cruise missiles 
in the 1960s, including the subsonic Styx. The 
following year Badger C and Bear B/C long-range 
bombers were equipped to fire supersonic, nu- 
clear-capable AS-2 Kipper and AS-3 Kangaroo air- 
to-surface missiles from ranges in excess of 100 
miles. The launch range of some weapons ex- 
tended beyond the surveillance range of radars 
aboard ships. Undetected missile launch and su- 
personic speeds combined to reduce reaction 
time, while increasing raid density threatened to 
saturate defenses. 

The Navy recognized that stand-alone de- 
fense components would eventually not be capa- 
ble of responding to air threats. Search and fire 
control radars were based on analog technology 
and first generation computers. SAM launchers 
depended upon hydraulic loading operations and 
large rotating magazines, restricting the rate of 
fire to one or two missiles a minute. High speed, 
low altitude cruise missiles stressed existing mis- 
sile fuzing systems. In combination, the stand- 
alone components were manpower intensive and 
could not react in the required time. 

The widespread introduction of digital and 
other electronic technologies initiated a period of 
combat system improvements that affected al- 
most every aspect of sensor, weapon, and 
launcher design. This development included true 
combat system integration for the first time. In 
1963, the 3-T missile effort transitioned into a 
dual-track Standard missile (SM) program which 
incorporated earlier designs. Though Talos was 
discontinued, Tartar became SM-1 (MR or 
medium range) and Terrier became SM-1 (ER or 
extended range). Responding to the threat of 
cruise missiles, SM had an improved autopilot, 
proximity fuzed target detecting device, greater 
range, jamming resistance, and inertial naviga- 
tion to guide the missile from the launch ship to 
a designated homing basket. 

Advancements in combat system capability 
were not limited to ships. In 1964, the E-2A 
Hawkeye airborne early warning aircraft entered 
the fleet. With an aircraft version of NTDS to ex- 
change track data with other ships and aircraft, 
Hawkeye expanded air defense surveillance and 
battlespace beyond a ship's radar horizon, restor- 
ing costly reaction time for fleet air defense units. 
With the advance warning provided by E-2 air- 
borne radar, carrier-based fighters and guided 
long-range SAMs became the first line of air de- 
fense for task forces as tactics stressed "shoot the 
archer" before an arrow was launched. Fighter 
and ship actions, target assignments, and the em- 
ployment of weapons were initiated by pre- 
planned operational orders and coordinated via 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 25 



■naval theater air defense 



NTDS by AAWC. Together, missile ships, E-2s, 
and fighters exchanged data continuously via 
Link-11 to mutually reinforce defense-in-depth. 
This tactic focused on heavy attrition of incom- 
ing raids, forcing enemy aircraft and missiles to 
penetrate multiple, coordinated layers of defense. 

Vietnam provided the first test of new air de- 
fense capabilities. Not only did systems prove to 
be reliable and effective for air defense of forces at 
sea; the Navy also found that it could extend the 
air defense envelope over land in support of 
forces operating near the coast. Various enemy air 
bases were within shipboard and E-2 radar range, 
allowing naval forces to monitor and respond to 
launch and recovery activities. In 1965, the 
guided missile cruiser USS Long Beach engaged 
two MiGs detected 60 miles inland with ship- 
launched SAMs. From offshore, naval forces 
showed that they could protect friendly forces 
operating in port facilities, beachheads, and 
coastal airfields. 

Theater Air Defense Matures 

Throughout the conflict in Vietnam, enemy 
aircraft frequently flew in the same battlespace as 
friendly air forces. Tactics and procedures proved 
sufficiently responsive and flexible to enable 
AAWC to manage the complex battlespace as well 
as adjust to various operating environments and 
threat conditions. Air defense tactics were tested 
and refined. Fleet air defense identification zone 
procedures were drafted to control the intense air 
surveillance and identification environment over 
the Gulf of Tonkin and to confirm the identity of 
returning friendly aircraft. Later, the procedures 
were used extensively to track, identify, and de- 
conflict thousands of flights over land and water 
in the Persian Gulf War. Zero blue-on-blue engage- 
ments remains an essential air defense criterion. 

In spite of advances, new dangers from high 
speed sea skimming cruise missiles required more 
than incremental improvements. Rotating radars 
updated data too slowly on targets travelling at 
supersonic speeds. A widespread reliance on 
stand-alone combat system components imposed 
manpower intensive and time consuming steps in 
the detect-track-engage sequence. A shipboard 
combat system was required to automate man- 
power intensive functions and to enable employ- 
ment of on board weapon systems more rapidly. 
In response to these air defense challenges, the 
Navy began full scale development of the Aegis 
shipboard weapon system in 1973. 

Aegis combined virtually every aspect of 
anti-air warfare management in a fully integrated, 
multi-sensor, computer-aided combat system. In- 
troduced operationally in 1983, the heart of the 
Aegis weapon system is the SPY-1 phased array 
radar, which provides automatic detection and 



fire control quality tracking for hundreds of tar- 
gets simultaneously. Since its radar also commu- 
nicates directly with SMs in flight to provide mid- 
course guidance information, the demand to 
dedicate a separate fire control radar for the dura- 
tion of a missile's flight is eliminated. Target illu- 
mination, required for semi-active homing mis- 
siles, is provided only for the final seconds of 
missile flight, or endgame. The result is a dra- 
matic increase in the number of simultaneous en- 
gagements, since the ship is no longer limited by 
the availability of tracking fire control directors. 
The uniqueness of the fully integrated Aegis 
weapon system is not only in the increased num- 
ber of actions completed automatically, but also 
in the ability of operators to alter the conditions 
under which actions can be performed using au- 
tomated doctrine. This is accomplished by pro- 
grammable "if-then" statements that associate 
track criteria such as speed, altitude, IFF (identifi- 
cation, friend or foe), and range with a specific 
automatic or semi-automatic action. 

Throughout the Aegis design and develop- 
ment process, five performance factors were used 
to evaluate its capabilities: reaction time, fire- 
power, electronic countermeasure and environ- 
mental resistance, continuous availability, and 
coverage. With design efforts focused, new initia- 
tives and potential warfighting capabilities had to 
contribute to the improvement of one or more of 
these key performance factors. The era of stand- 
alone components and black boxes, which re- 
quired added shipboard manpower and unique 
logistics tails, had ended. In the past twenty 
years, these factors successfully guided every 
modification or upgrade to the Aegis system. 

Three other recent developments promise to 
have a dramatic impact on theater air defense: co- 
operative engagement capability (CEC), joint tac- 
tical information distribution system (JTIDS), and 
the proliferation of tactical ballistic missiles. CEC 
is a computer-based information exchange sys- 
tem that allows ships or aircraft to remotely share 
raw radar measurement data at near real-time ex- 
change rates. Cooperative engagement is a nat- 
ural result of tactical computer networking which 
captures major technological and reliability ad- 
vancements in high speed computer processing 
and communications. With sensor netting fire 
control, quality sensor data can be exchanged 
among multiple cooperating units (CUs) includ- 
ing ships, aircraft, and ground forces, enabling 
participants to view the same tactical picture. The 
potential for force-wide automated doctrine to as- 
sist track evaluation, identification functions, and 
engagement decisions could optimize the speed, 



26 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



Combat information 
center aboard 
USS Vincennes. 



Maiorano et al. 





Aegis cruiser launch- 
ing multiple Standard 
missiles. 



reliability, and utility of data exchange. Leaders 
can spend more time evaluating data than pro- 
cessing it. 

CEC is being tested at sea today. Planned for 
operational introduction in 1996, it provides a 
quantum leap in data accuracy exchange between 
air defense forces. CEC-equipped forces will be 
able to engage hostile targets not seen on their 
sensors. The unparalleled accuracy of composite 
track data will allow missiles in flight to be 
handed off to other units better positioned to con- 
trol the engagement endgame. The implications 
for coordination of air defense actions across the 
entire theater of operations are enormous. 

In addition to CEC, JTIDS is being fielded by 
all services. This system is a high speed, secure, 
jam-resistant, voice and tactical data communica- 
tions system over Link- 16. It provides users with 
real-time position, status, special purpose, and 
identification information on friendly, unknown, 
and hostile tracks. The associated command and 



control processor (C 2 P) introduces the capability 
to exchange information between tactical links 
(such as Link- 11, Link- 16, and CEC) and conduct 
multiple simultaneous data link operations. JTIDS 
will be the joint surveillance, warning, and com- 
mand and control coordination net of the next 
century. 

Finally, the widespread proliferation of tacti- 
cal ballistic missiles (TBMs) is the most recent and 
threatening challenge to effective air defense. The 
Gulf War clearly demonstrated the tactical and 
strategic impact of TBMs and stressed the political 
and military importance of TBM defense. Like 
anti-ship cruise missile defense at sea, TBM de- 
fense of forces ashore has become an essential to 
successful operations in regional conflicts. To 
achieve this capability quickly and affordably, the 
Navy is capitalizing on prior investments in SM 
and the Aegis weapon system, which are being 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 27 



U.S. Navy 





■naval theater air defense 




Task Force 70 in 
western Pacific. 



modified to incorporate a TBM capability. De- 
fense against TBMs from ships at sea will permit a 
safe entry of joint forces into a hostile theater. 

The real-time exchange of tactical informa- 
tion among the services is fundamental to joint 
operations along littorals. With multiservice track 
data exchange provided by JTIDS and planned 
CEC deployment with real time shooter-to- 
shooter coordination, the C 2 architecture to or- 
chestrate theater air defense units at sea and 

ashore will be in place. 
Synergism among re- 
flexible and robust tactics are in cent air defense ad- 

place to support Navy, joint, and vances— Aegis, cec, 
. . JTIDS, and theater bal- 

allied air defense requirements listic missile def ense 

(TBMD) — makes them 
force multipliers and ensures robust air defense 
and seamless transition to a joint command 
structure on arrival of follow-on forces. 

Since Vietnam, air defense tactics and proce- 
dures have been developed to address specific re- 
quirements of near-land and amphibious opera- 
tions, emphasizing early coordination with 
marine and joint forces ashore. The reorientation 
of the Navy toward littoral operations imposes 
added C 3 requirements on commanders ashore. 
Forces operating ashore or in an amphibious ob- 
jective area require defenses against cruise mis- 
siles, hostile air, and tactical ballistic missiles. The 
increasing emphasis on joint operations in re- 
gional conflicts established a clear demand for 
theater air defense battle management procedures 
to quickly transition from an area air defense 



commander (AADC) afloat to a counterpart 
ashore without loss of continuity. 

Navy theater air defense is a model of joint- 
ness and the product of technological evolution, 
training, and operational lessons. AAWC is nor- 
mally stationed on board an Aegis cruiser. In the 
open ocean they control and coordinate air de- 
fense assets, including guided missile ships and 
early warning, combat air patrol, airborne 
tankers, and electronic warfare aircraft. Land- 
based aircraft are coordinated through AAWCs 
who are responsible for proper identification, 
check-in, and flight safety. Coordination among 
air defense units is accomplished via Link- 11 (in- 
creasingly by JTIDS) and optimized by CEC 
among shooters. Flexible and robust tactics are in 
place to support Navy, joint, and allied air de- 
fense requirements, near-land or in open ocean, 
including operations from crisis prevention to re- 
gional conflict. 

The Navy theater air defense capability is de- 
rived from equipment, computer programs, tac- 
tics, and training that have evolved over fifty 
years. Periodic validation in combat has proven 
the efficacy of these capabilities and demon- 
strated the Navy's essential contribution to air de- 
fense. Driven by a changing threat, tactical and 
technological improvements have ensured that 
the Navy maintained its air defense capabilities in 
every potential theater of operations. For the fore- 
seeable future, the Navy role in air defense will 
include four key components: 

■ fleet and amphibious objective area air defense 
against cruise missiles, aircraft, and tactical ballistic missiles 

■ overland area tactical ballistic and cruise missile 
defense of joint and coalition forces 

■ tactical TBMD for defense-in-depth and reassur- 
ance of allies 

■ joint theater air defense battle management and 
C 3 prior to and during transition to AADC ashore. 

Navy ships and aircraft are forward deployed 
365 days a year in virtually every region of the 
world. They can establish an air defense umbrella 
at sea or overland, bring organic firepower for 
area and self defense, and provide doctrinal au- 
tomation to help watchstanders remain vigilant 
for long periods of time under stressful condi- 
tions. CEC-equipped, TBMD-capable Aegis ships 
(with SM block IV variants) ensure that the Navy 
stays in the vanguard of joint theater air defense 
in the 21 st century. JFQ 



28 JFQ / Spring 1996 



Unity of Command— Countering 
Aircraft and Missile Threats 

By VINCENT P. DiFRONZO 




* ~ i t 

m h 




P-51 s escorting 
bombers during World 
War II. 

J oint force commanders (JFCs) must achieve 
and maintain air superiority against a range 
of threats. Controlling the air is a prerequi- 
site for force projection, surveillance, inter- 
diction, strategic attack, and surface maneuver. 
Politically, command of the air environment can 
be an integral aspect of coalition cohesion, espe- 
cially when population centers are at risk. 

The joint warfighting capability assessment 
(JWCA) process was instituted to ensure that the 
warfighting needs of CINCs 
. a B are met. To support this 

myriad aircraft and missile proC ess, the air superiority 

threats must be neutralized JWCA team established a 
, . . . framework, based on a strat- 

to attain air superiority egy-to-task analysis, for con- 

trolling the air. It focuses on 
gaining unimpeded use of airspace while denying 
it to an adversary. One aspect of the strategy-to- 
task analysis is that myriad aircraft and missile 



Major Vincent P. DiFronzo, USAF, is a fighter pilot assigned to the 
directorate of operational requirements at Headquarters, U.S. Air Force. 



threats — aircraft, cruise missiles, ballistic missiles, 
and surface to air missiles — must be neutralized 
to attain air superiority . 1 

Because all components and allied forces have 
some assets to counter such threats, JFCs face a 
dilemma in integrating them. Lessons from World 
War II to Desert Storm highlight the role unity of 
command plays in neutralizing threats. In terms of 
emerging capabilities, these lessons also reinforce 
the relevance of command which unites offensive 
and defensive operations, since the former can 
profoundly reduce stress on the latter. Moreover, 
countering aircraft, cruise missiles, and ballistic 
missiles is tied to theater air operations and is cen- 
tral to airspace control. For instance, fighter and 
surface based air defenses must be integrated under 
a single air commander to maximize effectiveness, 
minimize fratricide, and avoid inhibiting offensive 
air operations such as close air support and inter- 
diction. Therefore, joint force air component com- 
manders (JFACCs) must have responsibility and 
authority to control joint operations to counter 
aircraft and missile threats. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 29 



DOD 




■ aircraft and missile threats 




Squadron Leader 
Joseph Berry, RAF, 
credited with downing 
60 1/3 V-ls. 



The World War II Record 

Operations in Western Europe in the latter 
part of World War II, when contrasted to Desert 
Storm, reflect the importance of unity of com- 
mand in air superiority. Allied unity of command 
for air superiority fifty years ago was mar- 
ginal, whereas in the Gulf War there were 
very clear lines of authority. In the Euro- 
pean theater the Allies had two comman- 
ders with different concepts of how air- 
power might achieve their objectives. 
General Carl Spaatz, commander of U.S. 
strategic air forces, felt the Luftwaffe had to 
be defeated before the Normandy invasion 
by striking enemy aviation and oil indus- 
tries as well as the Luftwaffe itself. But Air 
Chief Marshall Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory, 
who had responsibility for Allied tactical 
forces dedicated to support the land inva- 
sion, held that air superiority could be 
achieved by waiting to fight off the Luft- 
waffe over the beaches of Normandy dur- 
ing the landing. It is an understatement to char- 
acterize Leigh-Mallory's approach as high risk. 2 

Strategic bombing losses had become prohib- 
itive in 1943 and the Allies had not established 
air superiority. Spaatz realized that an all out ef- 
fort, including P-5 Is and medium bombers under 
Leigh-Mallory's control, would be needed to de- 
feat the Luftwaffe . But the air marshall would not 
release medium bombers for counterair opera- 
tions. After debating this question for weeks, 
Spaatz won support from Air Chief Marshall Sir 
Arthur W. Tedder, the deputy supreme comman- 
der, who directed Leigh-Mallory to support the 
counterair operation. P-5 Is began escorting 
heavy bombers deep over German territory as 
fighters and medium bombers attacked Luftwaffe 
airfields. Direct air and ground attacks against the 
German air force greatly increased Allied bomber 
survivability and imposed a 20 percent monthly 
pilot attrition rate on the Luftwaffe. 

Meanwhile, Spaatz ordered controversial at- 
tacks against the enemy oil industry. Primarily 
because of persistent attacks on the Luftwaffe and 
its source of fuel, not a single German aircraft 
successfully threatened the landing force during 
the daylight hours of June 6, 1944. 3 Within the 
first week of the invasion, the few operational 
German fighters within striking range were di- 
rected to "abandon the ground support role" and 
concentrate on air defense. Meanwhile, the con- 
tinuing bomber offensive destroyed 90 percent of 
enemy aviation fuel by the end of June 1944, ren- 
dering the Luftwaffe ineffective against ground 
forces and only marginally effective against air 
operations. 



Even though coordination alone is normally 
not adequate to achieve unity of effort, most of 
these operations occurred prior to the invasion 
when competition for Allied air resources was not 
based on requirements for ground combat or air 
defense and there was time to debate strategy. But 
despite overcoming command discontinuity in op- 
erations against manned aircraft, the Allies were 
not as fortunate with Operation Crossbow — coun- 
tering V-l cruise missiles and V-2 ballistic mis- 
siles — for which a special committee was estab- 
lished to direct intelligence and operational efforts. 

Crossbow directives were inconsistent and, 
despite ample information on launch sites and 
their infrastructure, the lack of perfect intelli- 
gence became an excuse for delaying critical tar- 
geting decisions. For instance, the original launch 
infrastructure for V-ls was completely destroyed 
prior to the initial attacks, delaying the V-l of- 
fensive by several months. But the committee 
chose not to target alternate launch sites which 
were under rapid development. Ultimately, the 
Germans staged the V-l offensive from those 
sites and Allied operations against them were er- 
ratic. Moreover, the committee failed to direct 
targeting against three supply dumps used for the 
final assembly of V-ls, despite the fact that a sin- 
gle attack on one site led to a marked reduction 
in launches for a week. 

Nor did the committee come to decide on 
the best weapon system to employ against launch 
sites. Despite evidence that low altitude fighter 
attack had the pin-point accuracy to neutralize 
such facilities with minimal sortie expenditure, 
the committee refused to commit fighters, prefer- 
ring to use heavy and medium bombers which 
were too inaccurate for the task. The Allies com- 
pensated in mass and committed 31,000 sorties, 
or 22 percent of the air effort between November 
1943 and May 1944, to strike the original launch 
infrastructure. However, the payoff was marginal 
because alternate launch sites and supply depots 
were ignored. 

Defensively, the Allies had no capability 
against V-2 ballistic missiles, employing fighters 
and anti-aircraft (AA) guns against V-l cruise mis- 
siles. Fortunately, because they had successfully 
countered the aircraft threat, air defenses in Lon- 
don, Antwerp, and Liege were optimized against 
V-l missiles, greatly increasing air defense effec- 
tiveness. 

Air Marshall Sir Roderic Hill was responsible 
for AA, fighters, and barrage balloons in the de- 
fense of Britain. Initially AA guns were not appro- 
priately calibrated to engage V-ls, so Hill re- 
stricted gun operations and modified the rules of 
engagement to take full advantage of fighters. 
After the guns had been modified, he saw an op- 
portunity to improve the entire air defense system 



30 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



D i F r o n z o 



by repositioning guns to optimize their effective- 
ness while restricting fighters. Six weeks after the 
guns were repositioned, air defense performance 
peaked as the guns and fighters intercepted 90 of 
97 cruise missiles in one day. Although unity of 
command for this regional defensive effort was 
valuable, it was not sufficient. 

As the locus of V-l attacks shifted to the con- 
tinent and V-2 attacks began, Hill could not effi- 
ciently redirect his fighters for preemptive strikes 
or defense of critical assets across the channel be- 
cause there was no theater commander concen- 
trated on counter V-weapon operations with 
which timely coordination could be effected. 

Overall, the Crossbow committee was a poor 
vehicle for offensively countering V-weapon oper- 
ations. According to one official history, the Al- 
lies, "hampered by their failure to make clear-cut 
choices between the various courses open to 
them, never achieved the singleness of purpose 
which might have helped them to stake success- 
fully on information that fell short of certainty." 4 
The chroniclers of the Army Air Forces were even 
more pointed: 

There were serious faults . . An the organization of 

AWACS. controls over the [Crossbow] campaign As to the 

u.s. Air Force failure in organization, below the supreme comman- 

der's immediate staff Crossbow channels were, in 
their complexity and gradually fading dispersion of 
authority, hardly to be rivaled. 5 

In the end, the Allies suffered 32,000 military and 
civilian casualties as the result of V-weapons. 

In retrospect, despite disunity of command 
the Allies succeeded against the manned aircraft 
threat because General Spaatz was able, through 
persistence and personal commitment, to mar- 
shal unity of effort against the Luftwaffe. Opera- 
tions against the V-l and V-2 lacked unity of 
command and effort and thus failed to neutralize 
the threat. 

The Lessons of Desert Storm 

We again floundered over unity of command 
for air operations during both the Korean and Viet- 
nam conflicts. Then, in 1986, the Joint Chiefs of 
Staff codified the concept 

Iraq had an advanced air of a sin § le i oint air com - 

mander in Joint Pub 
defense system with SAMs 3-01.2, Counterair Opera- 

and fourth generation fighters tions. According to it, 

counterair operations are 
"all measures such as the 
use of SAMs, AAA, fighters, bombers, and ECM to 
defeat the enemy air and missile threat both before 
and after launch." Fortunately, this doctrine was 
applied during the Gulf War, with unity of com- 
mand for all air operations to include air superior- 
ity. As JFACC and area air defense commander, 



Lieutenant General Charles Horner, USAF, inte- 
grated offensive air operations as well as directing 
"a combined, integrated air defense and airspace 
control system in coordination with component 
and other friendly forces." 

In Desert Storm, we confronted a sophisti- 
cated, battle-proven air threat. Iraqi fighters had 
made mass raids during the Iran-Iraq conflict, in- 
cluding chemical weapons delivery. 6 Moreover, 
intelligence assessed possible chemical and bio- 
logical storage bunkers at several airfields, leading 
General Norman Schwarzkopf to fear a massive 
"Tet-like" attack by Iraq's air force. The enemy 
also had employed Scuds against Iran, and the 
coalition was concerned that these missiles could 
be used to deliver weapons of mass destruction 
(WMD). In addition to posing a significant offen- 
sive threat, Iraq also had an advanced air defense 
system with SAMs and fourth generation fighters, 
all coordinated through a complex command and 
control system. 

The coalition launched Desert Storm with 
the distinct advantage of unity of command for 
air operations and a clear strategy to deny sanctu- 
ary to the enemy. All elements of Iraq's air force, 
ground-based air defense system, and supporting 
C 3 were attacked simultaneously the first night of 
the war. This included synchronized attacks on 
early warning sites as well as command nodes by 
Army attack helicopters and Navy Tomahawk 
missiles. The missions were planned under JFACC 
by the joint air operations center in Riyadh and 
disseminated on the air tasking order. 

During the initial hours of the campaign, 
Iraqi SAM operators came to fear high-speed anti- 
radiation missile (HARM) attacks and transitioned 
to non-radar guided launches, greatly increasing 
survivability but severely limiting lethality. We 
persistently targeted airfields since enemy fighters 
posed a multi-role offensive and defensive threat. 
Airfield attacks, compounded by 14 Iraqi air-to-air 
losses in the first two nights, convinced Baghdad 
to disperse its air force rather than challenge 
coalition airpower, much like the SAM operators 
who chose survivability over effectiveness. 

Offensive missiles, primarily Scuds, also were 
a challenge. Allied aircrews had not trained against 
Scuds, and intelligence on infrastructure was 
sparse. A total of 1,245 sorties were flown against 
the Scud infrastructure, including production facil- 
ities, hide sites, lines of communication, and C 3 . 
Another 1,215 sorties were launched as combat air 
patrols (CAPs) to attack launchers and support ve- 
hicles. Of these, a thousand were diverted to alter- 
native interdiction or strategic targets after the 
time allotted for a CAP expired. Inadequate sensors 
and cumbersome communications made it diffi- 
cult to find and attack transporters, erectors, and 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 31 



■ A 



RCRAFT AND MISSILE THREATS 



launchers (TELs). However, fighter presence may 
have deterred Scud launches. 

Special operations forces (SOF) were also inte- 
grated into counter-Scud operations. Initial aircrew 
reports of success, combined with compelling bat- 
tle damage video, reinforced by a sharp decline in 
Scud launches, convinced air planners that these 
attack operations were effective. Despite limited 
battle damage assessment capability, coalition SOF 
teams also verified several Scud TEF kills. More- 
over, the Scud launch rate during Desert Storm was 
35 percent lower than against Iran in the so-called 
"War of the Cities" of 1988 despite the fact that 
Iraq possessed more launchers and missiles during 
the Gulf War. 7 Attacks against infrastructure and 
TEF facilities — operations not exercised by the Ira- 
nians in 1988 — were a likely cause for reduced 
launches. Furthermore, the enemy executed 80 
percent of its launches at night, most in poor 
weather. This is a logical way of limiting vulnerabil- 
ity, consistent with the actions of Iraqi air defense 
and air force counterparts who also more highly 
valued survival. Overall, there was a trend that re- 
flected a reduction in launches by enemy aircraft, 




Iraqi aircraft bunkers 

during Desert Storm. guided SAMs, and Scuds despite the capacity to em- 
ploy those weapons. 8 

Patriot represented the coalition's only defen- 
sive theater ballistic missile (TBM) capability. De- 
spite the controversy over tactical effectiveness, 
Patriot missiles protected forces and population 
centers in both Saudi Arabia and Israel. While pri- 
marily relying on Scuds for offensive air attack, 
Iraq launched one mission with two F-l Mirages 
into Saudi airspace, possibly with Exocet anti-ship 
missiles. Saudi F-15s destroyed the fighters under 
AWACS control. In this case, our forces were pro- 
tected in a time-critical situation with standard- 
ized procedures and unity of command. 



Throughout the campaign, unity of com- 
mand for air operations led to a coordinated of- 
fense and defense that included assets from all 
components and coalition members, unlike expe- 
riences in World War II. A fully integrated joint 
approach is even more important against emerg- 
ing threats. 

Threat Trends 

The aircraft and missile threat of the future 
will be more capable and diverse than in past 
conflicts, including increased lethality, range, ac- 
curacy, stealth, and progressive countermeasures. 
Fourth generation threat aircraft such as the 
MiG-29 are being produced and exported, while 
older aircraft like MiG-2 Is are being modified 
with fourth generation weapon capabilities. Addi- 
tionally, advanced SAMs are being acquired 
worldwide and counter-stealth capabilities are in 
high demand. 

Offensively, ballistic missiles are being ac- 
quired by developing nations as more advanced 
missiles are produced with increased ranges. For 
instance, the maximum range of Iraq's modified 
Scud is 600 kilometers. North Korea recently 
tested the 1,000-kilometer Nodong missile and 
also is working on the Taeodong II, a missile with 
a 3,500 kilometer range. Anti-ship cruise missiles 
have been a threat since the 1960s, and the spread 
of stealth technology will increase the risk to 
naval forces, especially in littorals, hand attack 
cruise missiles could also be a serious threat if 
guidance improvements are married with stealth 
capability. The accuracy of cruise missiles will im- 
prove with access to advanced internal navigation 
technology and satellite navigation information, 
such as the American global positioning system 
and Russian global navigation satellite system. 

But the most serious trend, WMD prolifera- 
tion, does not typically rely on accurate delivery 
vehicles. A number of states, including Iraq, Iran, 
North Korea, Syria, Fibya, and former Soviet re- 
publics, possess or are seeking the technology for 
nuclear, biological, and chemical capabilities. 
These weapons can be paired with aircraft, cruise 
missiles, or ballistic missiles. 

Air Superiority Trends 

The United States is moving to counter the 
diverse aircraft and missile threat. A review of fu- 
ture systems illustrates how different systems 
must be synchronized to achieve unity of effort. 
Future fighters such as the F-22, with its high 
speed and low observability, will enable our 
forces to dominate the air over enemy territory 
early in the campaign, clearing the path for other 
attack and surveillance aircraft and protecting 
friendly forces from aircraft and cruise missile at- 
tack as well as preventing aerial observation. 



32 



JFQ / Spring 1996 




D i F r o n z o 




Apache cruise missile 
awaiting buyers. 



Improved surveillance systems will ensure 
early detection of cruise missiles and aircraft. 
AWACS, E-2s ; and potential aerostats will offer 
cues via LINK-16 to fighters as well as terminal 
systems. Wide-bandwidth communications, such 
as the Navy cooperative engagement capability 
(CEC), will allow raw 



systems must remain integrated 
in air defense architecture to 
provide layered defense 



data from multiple sen- 
sors to be fused in real- 
time to enhance the 
common air picture. 
With sufficient sensor 
data, CEC can extend 
the engagement range of terminal systems be- 
yond the horizon line-of-sight. 

SAMs can be neutralized by HARM, the joint 
standoff weapon (JSOW), the Army tactical mis- 
sile system (ATACMS), and the Navy tactical land 
attack missile system (TLAMS). Non-lethal SAM 
suppression will depend largely on the upgraded 
Navy EA-6B. Detailed centralized planning along 
with joint battle management will support timely 
decentralized execution. 

The Patriot PAC-III will offer an improved 
capability over the PAC-II of Desert Storm and, 
along with Navy lower-tier assets, will provide a 
basic TBM point defense while preserving or im- 
proving defenses against the air-breathing threat. 
Therefore, these systems must remain fully inte- 
grated in air defense architecture to provide a lay- 
ered defense in the future. The Army THAAD and 
Navy upper-tier will engage TBMs at higher alti- 
tudes and defend larger areas. The airborne laser 
will intercept TBMs during the boost phase, pro- 
tect wide areas, and deposit warhead debris over 
enemy territory — a deterrent to WMD use. Be- 
cause such systems take time to field, we will be 
even more reliant on offensive measures as part 
of an overall counterair strategy in the interim. 



Collectively, improvements in attack opera- 
tions systems since Desert Storm are significant. 
For post-launch strikes, overhead detection of 
TBMs is now processed more effectively to locate 
launch sites, probably the greatest shortcoming 
in attack operations during the Gulf War. Soon 
after launch, evolving battle management sys- 
tems will be able to pass launch point estimates 
to fighters, ATACMS, and attack helicopters. Cur- 
rently, F-15Es, F-16s, and F-18s have moving tar- 
get indicator (MTI) radar modes that allow them 
to track fleeing TELs. Additionally, U-2 sensor in- 
formation is being processed in-theater in near 
real-time, in contrast to Desert Storm operations 
where control and processing resided in the 
United States. JSTARS offers a wide area capability 
with MTI for moving targets and synthetic aper- 
ture radar for fixed target location. Unmanned 
aerial vehicles provide similar capabilities deep in 
enemy territory. 

Much remains to be done to exploit inherent 
sensor capabilities to detect and identify time- 
critical targets. Intelligence and surveillance in- 
formation must be combined in near real-time, 
analyzed, and preferably data-linked to shooters 
to minimize time-lines. Further, from a planning 
and execution standpoint, joint battle manage- 
ment will be essential for capitalizing on these 
varying capabilities which will also be in high de- 
mand for other mission areas. 

Overall, a significant investment is being 
made in weapons systems which either directly or 
indirectly contribute to attaining air superiority. 
These will be complimented by battlespace aware- 
ness and battle management tools. A challenge to 
JFCs will be ensuring unity of effort to prevent 
piecemeal use of these systems. The first step to- 
ward success is a logical doctrinal construct. 

Air Superiority 

According to joint doctrine, 'The purpose of 
unity of command is to ensure unity of effort 
under one responsible commander for every ob- 
jective." Current doctrine recommends that JFCs 
normally designate JFACCs as supported comman- 
ders for counterair operations. 9 This obviously in- 
cludes command authority for all joint operations 
to defeat both aircraft and SAM threats, based on 
JFC guidance. However, for operations against 
cruise and ballistic missiles, doctrine sanctions di- 
vided responsibility among the components. 

There are a number of advantages to com- 
pletely integrating counter-TBM and cruise mis- 
sile efforts with overall air superiority operations. 
First, JFC needs to ensure forces and vital interests 
are free of air attacks. Defeating part of the air 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 33 




■ aircraft and missile threats 



threat is inadequate in an era when delivery vehi- 
cles are becoming more accurate and lethal and 
can project WMD. Second, all systems with an 
aircraft defense capability also have capabilities 
against missiles — Patriots, Aegis destroyers and 
cruisers, and Hawks either can or will soon be 
able to counter aircraft, cruise missiles, and ballis- 
tic missiles as fighters engage aircraft and cruise 
missiles. JFACCs, who derive their authority from 
JFCs and maintain a dialogue with JFCs and other 
components, can capitalize on strengths in one 
defensive system to offset weaknesses in others, 
based on the overall enemy air order of battle. 
Last, offensive operations can be prioritized to 
compensate for weaknesses in defense and vice- 
versa. 

Operational capabilities used to counter air- 
craft threats often overlap with those used against 
cruise missiles. To operators of surveillance and 
weapon systems, cruise missile and aircraft radar 
tracks will often appear identical in their flight 
profile, airspeed, and altitude. This normally 
means that rules of engagement, combat ID, and 
weapons control measures will be similar if not the 
same for defense against aircraft and cruise mis- 
siles. Furthermore, overlaps and voids in engage- 
ment capability between surface-based systems and 
fighters must be managed to optimize overall sys- 
tem capability. For example, surface based systems 
designed to engage TBMs at high altitude can be 
augmented by fighters to take on low-altitude 
cruise missile and aircraft threats. This level of 
teamwork requires clear command authority and 
an integrated communications system. 

In addition, overall rules of engagement and 
defensive force lay-down must be consistent with 
the air concept of operations and airspace control 
measures. 10 As airspace control authorities, 
JFACCs are charged with safe passage of joint and 
combined offensive, surveillance, and support 
missions to include military airlift and civil avia- 
tion. Integrating air defenses with other airspace 
requirements in a combat zone is daunting be- 
cause of the enormous demand on limited air- 
space. For example, JFACC deconflicted 3,000 sor- 
ties per day during the Gulf War while 
monitoring and controlling 160 restricted opera- 
tional zones, 122 airborne refueling points, 32 
CAP areas, 10 air transit routes, 60 Patriot engage- 
ment zones, 312 missile engagement zones, 60 re- 
stricted fire areas, and 17 airbase defense zones. 
Because of the underlying friction between air- 
space control measures and air defense (including 
missile defense), any change can cause a ripple ef- 
fect. Thus, centralized planning under JFACC is 
essential with a streamlined battle management 
structure to support decentralized execution of air 
defense while simultaneously providing airspace 
control. 



Ultimately, JFCs must integrate air defenses 
to maximize the attrition of enemy air vehicles 
while minimizing fratricide. Previous exercises 
have identified a positive correlation between 
high threat attrition and high fratricide. Several 
variables influence that link, including clear com- 
mand authority, joint training, combat ID capabil- 
ity, and interoperable communications links. JFCs 
and components can influence our capability in 
the short term by integrating aircraft and missile 
defense operations under JFACCs and pursuing 
joint training consistent with this approach. 

Historically, positive control over terminal 
systems by JFACCs through decentralized battle 
management systems such as AWACS has limited 
fratricide. Positive control of terminal systems 
also minimizes procedural routing constraints on 
CAS and short range air interdiction missions, ef- 
fectively giving corps or MAGTF commanders 
more offensive airpower to support close combat 
operations. This will remain the case against air- 
craft and cruise missiles because of their similar 
flight profiles. Finally, positive control never in- 
fringes on the right to self defense and does allow 
surface commanders the flexibility to position or- 
ganic air defense units as required to protect their 
forces. However, procedural control is normally 
adequate for ballistic missile engagements, given 
that engagement airspace is deconflicted, since 
there is minimal risk of fratricide. Of course, 
JFACCs can also influence overall defensive per- 
formance by reducing the diversity and number 
of threats through offensive operations. 

More importantly, JFACCs can prioritize of- 
fensive operations to compensate for weakness in 
defense. Unfortunately, current joint doctrine 
considers attack operations against cruise missiles 
and ballistic missiles to be part of "counterair, 
strategic attack, interdiction, fire support, maneu- 
ver, antisubmarine warfare, antisurface warfare, 
strike warfare, amphibious operations, or special 
operations." 11 This approach, wherein attack op- 
erations are considered as part of every mission, 
dilutes focus on the objective. 

Additionally, responsibility for planning and 
execution is divided among components based 
on shifting areas of operation (AOs). Doctrine al- 
lows AOs to extend beyond the traditional depths 
of maneuver force operations which enables sur- 
face commanders to influence interdiction 
against forces that will have a near-term impact 
on operations. 12 Consistent with joint doctrine, 
targeting of short range ballistic missiles that pri- 
marily threaten surface forces should fall under 
the purview of surface commanders as part of 



34 JFQ / Spring 1996 



D i F r o n z o 



their counterbattery objective. But changing re- 
sponsibility based on ground maneuver bound- 
aries for strikes against theater-ranging air threats, 
which may not be the priority for surface com- 
manders, could expose all forces to increased risk. 

Conversely, maintaining command continu- 
ity in the counter-TBM fight serves the interests of 
a theater. JFACCs plan as well as execute theater- 
wide deep strike operations, to include joint sup- 
pression of enemy air defense (JSEAD), air-to-air, 
surveillance, joint interdiction, and strategic at- 
tack. In addition to attack assets, offensive opera- 
tions against individual mobile missiles such as 
Scuds may require surveillance and reconnais- 
sance support when organic weapon sensors are 
not adequate for target discrimination. Until the 
aircraft and missile threat is defeated, both air-to- 
air and JSEAD assets must be synchronized not 
only to support attack missions but also to protect 
surveillance and reconnaissance assets. Moreover, 
attack operations will compete with demands by 
JFCs for interdiction, strategic attack, and other 

counterair opera- 

the current JFACC counterair process 
offers a solid foundation to counter 



theater missiles 



tions. Because of 
their deep strike 
and air superiority 
responsibilities, 
JFACCs can effi- 
ciently integrate 
attack operations into campaigns for JFCs. By 
stepping up attacks on the threats that are most 
difficult to defend against, they can also compli- 
ment aircraft and missile defense. 

The current JFACC counterair process offers 
a solid foundation for joint unity of command to 
counter theater missiles, both offensively and de- 
fensively. Centralized planning will occur at the 
joint air operations center. Fiaison personnel inte- 
grate component capabilities into the master at- 
tack and air defense plan in accord with JFC guid- 
ance. Fiaison personnel are key to this process 
since they provide weapons systems expertise for 
joint planning. They can also articulate the con- 
cept of operations as well as the protection priori- 
ties of their respective components which allows 
JFACCs to resolve issues at the lowest level. How- 
ever, because there is often a shortage of assets, 
no plan will satisfy everyone, and some issues 
must be resolved by JFCs. For decentralized exe- 
cution, component battle management nodes 
play a critical role, and as these systems become 
more jointly interoperable overall effectiveness 
will increase significantly. 



This matter can be reduced to either air supe- 
riority as one mission with a single commander 
for theater-wide efforts or to counteraircraft and 
countermissile operations as separate entities. The 



former was the approach in Desert Storm and was 
successful given the constraints of the coalition. 
The latter reflects the World War II model which 
led to gross inefficiencies and marginal results. 
Current and emerging capabilities potentially 
overlap and there are some voids in offensive as 
well as defensive operations. To optimize capabili- 
ties, a clear command and control process is re- 
quired for centralized planning and decentralized 
execution. If air superiority is more difficult to 
achieve in the future because of threat diversity 
and WMD, we must maximize our potential by 
ensuring unity of effort through unity of com- 
mand. A single commander is at the center of this 
command process and must be vested with the 
authority to make decisions and resolve conflicts. 
To accept anything less threatens the warfighting 
capabilities of JFCs. JPQ 



NOTES 

1 J.N. Donis, Analyses of Selected Issues for the Initial 
Air Superiority and Strike Joint War fighting Capability As- 
sessments (Alexandria, Va.: Institute for Defense Analy- 
ses, 1995), p. 14. 

2 Richard G. Davis, Carl A. Spaatz and the Air War in 
Europe (Washington: Center for Air Force History, 1992), 
pp. 5, 123, 299-317. 

3 Omar N. Bradley et al., The Effect ofAirpower on Mili- 
tary Operations in Europe (Wiesbaden: n.p., 1945), p. 21. 

4 F.H. Hinsley et al., British Intelligence in the Second 
World War ; Vol. 3, Its Influence on Strategy and Operations 
(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 544. 

5 Wesley F. Craven and James F. Cate, The Army Air 
Forces in World War II, Vol 3, Argument to V-E Day 
(Washington: Office of Air Force History, 1983), p. 541. 

6 Barry D. Watts and Thomas A. Keaney, Gulf War 
Air Power Survey: Effects and Effectiveness (Washington: 
Government Printing Office, 1993), p. 147. 

7 Ibid., pp. 330-32. 

8 Ibid. Combines charts from pp. 110, 140, and 337. 

9 Joint Pub 3-0, Doctrine for Joint Operations (Wash- 
ington: Government Printing Office, 1995), p. IV-5. 

10 Joint Pub 3-52, Doctrine for Joint Airspace Control in 
a Combat Zone (Washington: Government Printing Of- 
fice, 1995), p. II— 6. 

11 Joint Pub 3-01.5, Doctrine for Joint Theater Missile 
Defense (Washington: Government Printing Office, 
1994), p. Ill— 12. 

12 Joint Pub 3-0, p. IV-14. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 35 




■ JFQ FORUM 



The Security 
of the Americas 

By HANS BINNENDIJK and JOHN A. COPE 




Caracas. dod ( r.d. ward) 



W hile ethnic strife and 
regional conflict con- 
tinue to erupt around 
the world, the geopo- 
litical situation has markedly become 
more peaceful in the Americas. This 
transformation is obvious in the dis- 
course used to describe the area. Gone 
are terms that once distorted North 
American images of Latin America and 
the Caribbean — communist subver- 
sion, military dictatorships, death 
squads, nuclear proliferation, hyperin- 
flation, and U.S. imperialism. These 
terms have been replaced over the last 



decade by constructive images replete 
with a fresh vocabulary — democratic 
reform, market economy, peace opera- 
tions, confidence building, transna- 
tionalism, and cooperative security. 
Such expressions are evidence of a rev- 
olution that has quietly awakened the 
hemisphere, offering greater hope for 
solidarity and security than at any 
time in history. New economic, politi- 
cal, and cultural rhythms that are gain- 
ing strength in many nations are not 
random or unrelated developments, 
nor are they cyclical in nature. These 
are unique responses to profound local 
experiences and a 
transformed in- 
ternational envi- 
ronment. 



This largely unfamiliar and under- 
valued area to the south of the United 
States encompasses 33 Latin American 
and insular Caribbean states, ranging 
from Brazil, the fifth largest country in 
the world (with a land mass greater than 
that of the continental United States), 
to Barbados, one of the smallest. There 
are some 451 million people in the re- 
gion, a third of them in Brazil and a 
quarter in Mexico. The population is ex- 
pected to exceed 750 million by 2010, 
as Sao Paulo and Mexico City become 
two of the largest cities in the world. 

The emerging market democracies 
of Latin America have replaced the tra- 
ditional means of protectionism and 
statism with private initiative, foreign 
investment, and export-oriented 
growth. Additionally, the region has 



Hans Binnendijk and John A. Cope are, respectively, director 
and senior research professor in the Institute for National 
Strategic Studies at the National Defense University. 



36 JFQ / Spring 1996 



Binnendijk and Cope 



experienced the ascendancy of subre- 
gional cooperative regimes such as the 
North American Free Trade Agreement 
and the Southern Cone Common Mar- 
ket as well as an end to international- 
ized conflict in Central America. Over- 
laying the slow processes of economic 
reform and realignment is a shift from 
authoritarian government to constitu- 
tional democracy. 

In 1979, the democratic commu- 
nity included only Costa Rica, Colom- 
bia, Venezuela, and the Caribbean 
members of the British Common- 
wealth, and stability in the region was 



deteriorating. Today, however, 32 of 33 
Latin American and Caribbean states 
have representative governments. Only 
Cuba retains an authoritarian system. 
This "quiet revolution" has stimulated 
substantial Asian and European trade 
with and investment in American mar- 
kets. Of greater potential consequence, 
this transformation has promoted an 
unprecedented awareness of hemi- 
spheric community based on common 
values, interests, and concern about the 
future. Domestic developments have 
led nations in Latin America and the 
Caribbean to reconsider their attitudes 
toward Washington, resulting in more 
harmonious relations despite long- 
standing asymmetries in North-South 
power and episodic U.S. engagement. 
The possible outcome of the shift to- 
ward political and economic homo- 
geneity, while still indeterminate, sug- 
gests the emergence of Brazil as a power 
and, as well, the concept of South 
America as a distinct region with its 
own strategic perspectives. 

The Stakes 

The overreaching U.S. security ob- 
jectives in Latin America and the Car- 
ibbean are to ensure the area remains 
stable, democratic, and friendly to 
commerce and trade, and to maintain 
a regional military presence. Since the 
enunciation of the Monroe Doctrine, 
this goal has entailed diplomacy and, 



occasionally, the use of force to pre- 
vent rivals from undermining the in- 
fluence of the United States and its 
ability to keep regional events from 
getting out of control. Except for the 
Cuban missile crisis, no country in the 
hemisphere has posed a direct threat 
to the United States. 

During the Cold War, Washington 
focused on the Caribbean Basin and 
was less attentive to South America. 
U.S. strategic priorities stressed protect- 
ing access to and movement within 
the region (including unrestricted use 
of the Panama Canal), maintaining 
presence through its military 
bases in and around the Carib- 
bean, and assuring access to 
fuel and nonfuel minerals. 
Neighbors regarded the U.S. ap- 
proach as fixed exclusively on 
its own goals, with little regard 
for the interests or priorities of other 
states. Their leaders sensed a tendency 
to look southward only through North 
American eyes and rely on U.S. solu- 
tions to local problems. Actions often 
were taken unilaterally and without 
consultation, resulting in diplomatic 
confrontations and mutual distrust. 

During the 1980s Washington 
found that security was not the only re- 
gional policy issue. There were core de- 
mocratic values to be upheld in the 
Americas. The United States perceived 
that it had an obligation to back mod- 
erate forces which advocated a commit- 
ment to human rights, social justice, 
and representative government, and 
championed democratization. Support 
for this political transition took many 
forms, ranging from public manifesta- 
tions and technical assistance for newly 
elected governments to relatively sig- 
nificant amounts of military aid for the 
Salvadoran state during its civil war 
and U.S. military action to restore 
democracy in Grenada and Panama, 
and more recently in Haiti. 

North-South relations are more 
positive and cooperative in the current 
transformed context. In December 
1994, for example, leaders of the hemi- 
sphere's 34 democracies gathered in 
Miami for the Summit of the Americas. 
Then, in July 1995, senior defense offi- 
cials from these nations convened in 
Williamsburg for the Defense Minister- 



ial of the Americas. Moreover, there 
was a rapid effective response in early 
1995 to fighting between Ecuador and 
Peru over a contested part of their fron- 
tier in the Amazon. Close partnership 
among the guarantors of the 1942 Rio 
protocol, which includes the United 
States, facilitated a cessation of hostili- 
ties and separation of forces, creating 
the basis for a diplomatic solution. The 
recent case of Haiti also demonstrated 
effective and extensive regional cooper- 
ation during maritime interdiction of 
arms and oil prior to September 1994 
as well as during Operation Uphold 
Democracy and the follow-on phase 
under the United Nations. 

The United States is beginning to 
realize that it has a substantial stake in 
peaceful, stable, and prosperous Latin 
American and Caribbean nations and 
that Washington's traditional one- 
sided strategic approach is no longer 
useful in assuring its security interests. 
By collaborating with allies and friends 
in the region, the United States will 
benefit from trade and investment op- 
portunities, some relief in immigration 
and other spillover effects of instability 
outside its borders, and long-sought 
after advancements in core values. 
Working together is a function of ne- 
cessity in order to be free of traditional 
and non-traditional threats and appre- 
hensions in the region, such as territo- 
rial claims, drug-trafficking, organized 
crime, and terrorism. 

The Core Issues 

Although the Caribbean basin still 
commands public attention, often nar- 
rowing the scope of U.S. interests and 
blurring distinctions between domestic 
and foreign policy, Washington is try- 
ing to interact on a wide range of issues 
across the hemisphere. Opportunities 
and vulnerabilities are increasingly 
transnational in nature. Thus the need 
is greater than ever for the United 
States and its neighbors to successfully 
address regional core issues: trade and 
development; political, economic, and 
social reform in fragile democracies; 
and stemming drug traffic. 

Latin America is once again the 
fastest growing market for U.S. exports 
and investment. The average annual 



except for the Cuban missile crisis, 
no country in the hemisphere has 
posed a direct threat 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 37 



■ JFQ FORUM 




rate of growth in exports was 21 per- 
cent from 1987 to 1993, twice the rate 
of the European Union. Oil is another 
economic factor. Venezuela is the 
largest supplier of refined petroleum to 
the United States. Mexico, Trinidad, 
and increasingly Colombia are major 
suppliers, reducing U.S. dependence 
on the oil fields of the Middle East. 
World commerce continues to pass 
through Panama, where the issue of re- 
duced U.S. military presence after final 
implementation of the Panama Canal 
treaty is still open to exploratory dis- 
cussion. The possible retention of a 
small military infrastructure after the 
year 2000 has strategic significance, 
signaling that the United States has 
both a commitment to the region and 
a desire to cooperate in facing transna- 
tional threats. 

The sustained appeal and credibil- 
ity of democratic governance and free 
markets are vital to the United States. Of 
immediate concern is the outcome of 
political, economic, and social reforms 
that affect commerce and trade and, per- 
haps most significant, drive decisions to 
emigrate. Sixty percent of over a million 
legal immigrants annually to the United 
States in recent years come from the 
Americas, mainly Mexico. But this pic- 
ture is incomplete. The region also gen- 
erates well over half of the estimated two 
to four million undocumented arrivals 
and an additional 1.1 million who are 
apprehended and turned back. Control 
of illegal migration and refugees can 
only begin abroad. 

The region is also the source of all 
the cocaine, most of the marijuana, 
and a growing share of the heroin en- 



tering the United States. This amounts 
to an estimated 300 metric tons of co- 
caine, two-thirds of which enters via 
Mexico, roughly 2,000 metric tons of 
marijuana, chiefly Mexican, and 37 
metric tons of heroin from Colombia 
and Mexico. The inter-American re- 
sponse to the illicit traffic in drugs in- 
volves attempts to cut the U.S. de- 
mand, coordinate the interdiction of 



the flow, and cooperate in the curtail- 
ing of money laundering. There also is 
deep U.S. interest in reinforcing justice 
and democracy by helping neighbors 
defeat internal threats from illegal nar- 
cotics activities to core institutions — 
political parties, legislatures, courts, 
and law enforcement. 

As the United States draws closer to 
its neighbors, there are opportunities for 
cooperation, but there is also the danger 
of adverse consequences from setbacks 
and disturbances in the region. 
It will take time for most Latin 
American and Caribbean states 
to strengthen fragile govern- 
ments, create accountable in- 
stitutions, counter corruption, 
right injustice, and meet the 
needs of minorities. Elected leaders still 
fear social conflict within their borders. 
The most serious threats to national sta- 
bility are caused by domestic crime and 
violence which is increasingly linked to 
poverty, drug traffic, and unresponsive 
public policy. Fortunately, political and 



economic reforms over the last decade 
and a secure intra-American environ- 
ment have eased tensions over territorial 
disputes. But old enmities and suspi- 
cions persist and conflicts are still possi- 
ble. The difference is a commitment 
which exists now to use legal frame- 
works and diplomacy to find equitable, 
lasting solutions. 

Defense Engagement 

The Department of Defense has 
long exercised an important role in Latin 
America and the Caribbean by encour- 
aging military cooperation on shared 
professional interests. However, the na- 
ture of U.S. security interests today, the 
emergence of common concerns, and a 
steady reduction in military resources 
have caused engagement in the region 
to become more diverse and innovative. 
As articulated in U.S. Security Strategy for 
the Americas issued in 1995 by the Of- 
fice of the Assistant Secretary of Defense 
for International Security Affairs, this 
defense engagement encompasses pro- 
viding intelligence, operational, and lo- 
gistical support for counterdrug efforts; 
encouraging the peaceful resolution of 



the most serious threats to national 
stability are caused by domestic 
crime and violence 



38 JFQ / Spring 1996 



U.S. Navy (John Bivera) Joint Combat Camera (Bredan F. Kavanaugh) 




Binnendijk and Cope 




Guyanese troops 
negotiating obstacle 

course. disputes, adopting 

confidence and se- 
curity building measures, and achieving 
nonproliferation and conventional arms 
control goals; promoting democratic 
norms in civil-military relations; and 
deepening professional contact among 
military counterparts. Traditional and 
non-traditional U.S. policy objectives 
place a high premium on leveraging de- 
fense assets to expand security contacts 
and strengthen professional collabora- 
tion. The focus is no longer solely on 
forces deployed in the region, but rather 
on military and civilian defense contacts 
and programs in the United States and 
overseas. Examples include meetings of 



defense ministers and their staffs, bilat- 
eral working groups, academic activities 
which facilitate political-military dia- 
logue, combined planning and informa- 
tion sharing, military deployments that 
bolster U.S. diplomatic efforts (such as 
restoring democracy in Haiti or deploy- 
ing peace observers and logistic support 
along the Ecuador-Peru border), multi- 
national military exercises, humanitar- 
ian relief, and innovative human rights 
initiatives. 

Defense strategy today in the 
Americas reflects the influence of un- 
precedented political and economic 



transformations in the hemisphere. Em- 
phasis is on developing low-profile mul- 
tilateral cooperation to address shared 
security concerns, expanding profes- 
sional contact, and encouraging devel- 
opment of a military ethos suitable for 
democratic society. For the foreseeable 
future, engagement will be successful to 
the extent it meets U.S. core interests, 
continues to demonstrate commitment 
to the region with a rapid-response ca- 
pability for natural or diplomatic emer- 
gencies, and lowers the odds of intra-re- 
gional conflict and need to deploy 
forces in a crisis. 

Partnership 

Is the United States ready for inter- 
American partnerships? Does it recog- 
nize that security now and for the fore- 
seeable future will be more closely tied 
to its American neighbors than before? 
Secretary of State George C. Marshall, a 
distinguished statesman not usually as- 
sociated with the Americas, replied af- 
firmatively to these questions in 1947 
while testifying before Congress on the 
Inter-American Military Cooperation 
Act: "... with the Atlantic Ocean on 
one side and the Pacific Ocean on the 
other, between us and the great distur- 
bances in the world of other peoples, it 
is all the more important that the West- 
ern Hemisphere be maintained on as 
unified a basis as possible. That is to our 
interest and to the interests of every 
country in the Western Hemisphere, 
and therefore I think in the best inter- 
ests of the world." 

As in Marshall's day, the United 
States is drawn to the East and West 
outside its immediate neighborhood in 
pursuit of its global interests. In the 
past, attention to inter-American af- 
fairs has tended to wane and the focus 
on solidarity and security has vanished 
from the national view, often to our 
mutual detriment. Secretary of Defense 
Perry, General McCaffrey, and other 
distinguished American authors from 
North and South who contributed to 
this JFQ Forum put the hemisphere in 
proper perspective and underscore the 
complexity of regional defense issues. 
They introduce a scene that is rich in 
fresh possibilities for greater mutual 
understanding and partnerships as 
well as more flexible and positive pro- 
fessional thinking. JFQ 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 39 




Make Good Neighbors 

By WILLIAM J. PERRY 



A small group of U.S. soldiers 
is serving in a peacekeeping 
operation in the jungles on 
the border between Ecuador 
and Peru after both nations agreed to 
end their boundary dispute at the ne- 
gotiating table rather than on the bat- 
tlefield. The agreement 
to stop fighting and de- 
militarize the border was 
brokered by Brazil which 
along with Argentina, 

Chile, and the United States provided 
troops to monitor the agreement. 

This is only one example of the 
historic opportunities that now exist 
for the nations of the Western Hemi- 
sphere to build stable bridges of com- 
munication, cooperation, and trust 
that increase the security of our neigh- 
borhood. Times have changed. The 
hemisphere has embarked on a new 
era of democracy, peace, and stability. 



The Honorable William J. Perry is Secretary of Defense. 



Most previous Secretaries of De- 
fense looked south and saw only secu- 
rity problems. When I look south 
today, I find security partners. Just ten 
years ago, nearly half the nations of 
the region were ruled by military dicta- 
torships. Now all but Cuba are democ- 



the hemisphere has embarked on a new 
era of democracy, peace, and stability 



racies led by elected governments. 
Nearly every part of the Americas is 
free. The end of the Cold War offers a 
chance to consolidate these many 
democratic gains. With a decline in in- 
surgency and increase in bilateral and 
multilateral cooperation, peace domi- 
nates the region. 

Negotiation has replaced con- 
frontation. All parts of the hemisphere 
are reaching out to one another as even 
traditional enemies become trading 
partners. In the 
process, the Ameri- 
cas have been 



linked in a considerable and expanding 
economy. The gross hemispheric prod- 
uct will exceed $13 trillion by the end 
of the decade. Thanks to this growth, 
per capita income in Latin America is 
expected to increase by a fifth — a suc- 
cess that promises to ease poverty and 
raise living standards to enhance politi- 
cal stability. If these trends continue, in- 
cluding new agreements on free trade, 
Latin America will be a larger U.S. trad- 
ing partner than Western Europe. 

With such a growing harmony of 
interests, the Americas have an unpar- 
alleled opportunity to create an era of 
trust, cooperation, and unity, and a 
community of free, prosperous, and se- 
cure nations. As President Clinton has 
indicated, "We've arrived at a moment 
of very great promise and great hope 
for the Western Hemisphere." 

That promise and hope were con- 
spicuous in December 1994 at the Sum- 
mit of the Americas in Miami. This was 
the first gathering of hemispheric lead- 
ers in more than a generation and the 



40 JFQ / Spring 1996 



Perry 




Bridge of the Americas 
over Panama Canal. 



first of exclusively democratically- 
elected leaders. The participants ex- 
plored a number of common inter- 
ests — democracy, trade, technology, 
and environment — and outlined an ac- 
tion plan on the economic and politi- 
cal future. Because a meeting of freely 
elected heads of government would not 
have been possible during the Cold 
War, the summit was a notable political 
symbol; but it was also significant for 
its political substance. The nations 
agreed that the future would be built 
on strong democratic institutions, sus- 
tainable development, and free trade. 
Moreover, they agreed to develop a Free 
Trade Area of the Americas to ensure 
that goal. 

After the summit, which concen- 
trated on political and economic mat- 
ters, the governments also recognized 
the need to cooperate on security mat- 
ters. Creating closer links among de- 
fense and military establishments and 
committing to uphold the democratic 
process will bolster democracy, stabil- 
ity, and economic reform. Specifically, 



defense and military links will help ad- 
dress threats to peace and stability, 
promote hemispheric cooperation, and 
foster the growth of military institu- 
tions that serve and benefit democracy. 
As the first step in further cooperation, 
the defense leaders of the 33 democra- 
tic nations present accepted an invita- 
tion from the United States to attend 
the first Defense Ministerial of the 
Americas in Williamsburg, Virginia, 
last summer. 

Williamsburg — where Jefferson, 
Washington, and Madison drafted the 
framework for the first democracy in 
the hemisphere two centuries ago — 
was the perfect site for this historic 
meeting. Among stately halls and cob- 
blestone streets, 
the ministers met 
to sketch out a 
framework to se- 
cure democracy 
throughout the 
hemisphere. They 
set realistic goals and did not endeavor 
to resolve the hemisphere's security 
challenges. Rather, they focused on 
ways in which defense establishments 
could build ties. Such personal rela- 
tions are invaluable to communica- 
tion, trust, and cooperation among na- 
tions — sometimes even more than 
written agreements or formal relation- 
ships. 

While this meeting was held in 
and hosted by the United States, it was 
not a "U.S." event. Instead, it was an 
American event in the broadest mean- 
ing of the term, with North, Central, 
and South America as well as the 
Caribbean participating equally. In the 
same sense, the meeting did not oper- 
ate under a U.S. -imposed agenda. It 
was guided by an itinerary collabora- 
tively developed following discussions 
among all the nations throughout the 
previous year. This mutually accepted 
agenda set the right tone because it re- 
flected a democratic process and 
demonstrated, in a practical sense, the 
best way to secure and advance democ- 
racy in the hemisphere. 

The agenda consisted of three 
major areas — transparency and confi- 
dence building, defense cooperation, 
and the role of the military in democ- 
ratic societies. Each is important to 
post-Cold War hemispheric security. 



Transparency and confidence- 
building mean being open about de- 
fense plans, programs, and policies. 
They involve sending soldiers to each 
other's military schools and holding 
combined training exercises to rein- 
force cooperation and trust. Openness 
is an unusual concept when applied to 
defense because the art of war involves 
secrecy and surprise while the art of 
peace involves the opposite. Openness 
about defense matters reduces chances 
that nations will arm and act out of 
fear of the unknown. It fosters trust be- 
tween the military and public, a key 
ingredient in a democracy. 

The second area of discussion was 
defense cooperation. While the hemi- 



sphere is generally peaceful, sporadic 
security issues do arise. Among them 
are illicit drugs that poison communi- 
ties, threaten societies, and undermine 
national security. Working coopera- 
tively on such challenges is an effec- 
tive and efficient use of our resources. 
In the process, nations and militaries 
can learn from one another and about 
one another, as well as how to perform 
better in cooperative operations. 

The third area of attention was 
the proper role of armed forces in 21 st 
century democracies. In varying de- 
grees, defense and military establish- 
ments face major changes in reducing 
their forces and reconfiguring for mis- 
sions in the next century. In the same 
way the Armed Forces have seen their 
strength and spending reduced over 
the last ten years and are reexamining 
their roles and missions in the post- 
Cold War era, many militaries in the 
region are making fundamental 
changes in force structure, plans, poli- 
cies, or even in the way they relate to 
democratic governments. 

At the ministerial meeting defense 
establishments were urged to share ex- 
periences and ideas on how to ap- 
proach change and forge stronger ties 



many militaries in the region are making 
fundamental changes in the way they relate 
to democratic governments 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 41 



■ JFQ FORUM 



between civilian and military institu- 
tions. Just as the latter learn more 
about serving in a democracy, civilian 
expertise is required in defense and 
military matters. Similarly, armed 
forces might contribute to national de- 
velopment in areas such as infrastruc- 
ture and public works, functioning like 
the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and 
National Guard. As agreed in Miami 
both civilians and the military must 
protect human rights, and military 
training can be adapted to reflect that. 

Participants at the Williamsburg 
meeting accomplished more than 
reaching an agreement on a common 
agenda. As Jefferson outlined the prin- 
ciples of a new democracy two cen- 
turies ago, the defense leaders of this 
hemisphere outlined six principles to 
guide regional security relationships 
into the next century which they 
called the Williamsburg principles: 

■ the preservation of democracy as 
the basis for mutual security 

■ the critical role of the military in 
supporting and defending sovereign demo- 
cratic states 

■ the respect of the military for demo- 
cratic authority, constitutional law, and 
human rights 

■ the spread of openness in discussing 
defense programs, policies, and budgets 

■ the resolution of disputes through 
negotiated settlements — not military ac- 
tions 

■ the need for greater cooperation in 
peacekeeping and the fight against nar- 
coterrorists. 

These principles are truly revolu- 
tionary since they represent consensus 
and commitment on the part of 33 na- 
tions to the cause of peace and democ- 
racy in the hemisphere. That unity of 
purpose would not have been possible 
ten years ago. The precepts are all the 
more revolutionary because they are 
already being implemented. 

At the meeting, the United States 
demonstrated its commitment to 
openness in defense and security mat- 
ters by announcing a policy of notify- 
ing all democratic governments in this 
hemisphere before holding significant 
multilateral military exercises in the re- 
gion. To further underscore the resolve 
for openness, I distributed copies of 
the 1995 Department of Defense An- 
nual Report to the President and the Con- 
gress. This document informs the 




country and world about the kind of 
forces we are building, the rationale for 
them, and the amount being spent on 
those forces. 

Canada also presented its national 
defense policy document. And all par- 
ticipants discussed a variety of infor- 
mation-sharing measures, such as stan- 
dardized reporting to the United 
Nations on defense expenditures, full 
participation in the U.N. Register of 
Conventional Arms, and sharing these 
reports with the Organization of Amer- 
ican States. 

There have also been positive re- 
sults from implementing the commit- 
ment at Williamsburg to redress hemi- 
spheric conflicts through negotiation. 
A coalition headed by the United 
States and joined by many neighbors 
of Haiti worked with the United Na- 
tions to create a stable environment 
for the safe return of its democrati- 
cally-elected president and conducting 
national elections. And the collabora- 
tion among Argentina, Brazil, Chile, 
and the United States played a critical 
role in the agreement between Ecuador 
and Peru to demilitarize their border. 
That agreement and Operation Sup- 
port Democracy in Haiti set a signifi- 
cant precedent: peacekeeping in the 
Americas in support of conflict resolu- 
tion and democracy is more than a 
principle — it is a reality. 



Secretary Perry In the area of 

briefing the press on defense coopera- 
July 26, 1995. tion, we are build- 

ing on significant 
contributions which the region has 
made to international peacekeeping. 
For example, 20 countries from this 
hemisphere support 15 of the 16 cur- 
rent U.N. peace operations around the 
world. Forces have served together to 
restore order in both El Salvador and 
Haiti. Regional militaries have com- 
bined for humanitarian hurricane re- 
lief efforts. U.S. Reserve forces are get- 
ting hands-on training by working 
with Latin American militaries to build 
roads, schools, and wells in rural areas. 
| The hemisphere's annual Unitas exer- 
o cises help navies cooperate while other 
| multilateral exercises expand our abil- 
| ity to join together in peacekeeping 
Q and counterdrug missions and build 
interoperability. 

Pursuant to the Williamsburg 
agreements, there will be a full range 
of combined exercises. Also, Argentina 
and Canada offered to open more 
places in their peacekeeping training 
centers to students from other coun- 
tries, and the United States proposed 
expanding education for civilians in 
national security studies. 

Already this year in Santiago, gov- 
ernments of the hemisphere reached 
accord on military confidence-building 
and transparency measures. For exam- 
ple, they agreed to give advance notice 
of military exercises, exchange infor- 
mation on defense policies and doc- 
trine, invite observers from other na- 
tions to exercises, and develop border 
communications. The U.S. Southern 
Command and the Inter-American In- 
stitute of Human Rights co-hosted a 
conference on human rights training 
in February 1996, which resulted from 
discussions in Williamsburg. The guar- 
antor nations to the Ecuador and Peru 
peace process agreed to extend their 
border presence through June 1996. 



With the support of U.S. Southern Command, 
a special Spanish-language edition of this 
JFQ Forum on “The Security of the Americas” 
is being published simultaneously for distribution 
by U.S. Military Group commanders throughout 
the region. 



42 JFQ / Spring 1996 







Perry 




Venezuelan airborne 
troops. 



The United States has also partic- 
ipated in improved bilateral activities 
that serve as a model for cooperation. 
In October 1995 at the invitation of the 
Mexican minister of defense, I became 
the first Secretary of Defense to make 
an official visit to that country. Since 
the United States and Mexico have de- 
veloped closer economic ties under the 
North American Free Trade Agreement 
and closer political ties with President 
Clinton's visit to Mexico, this was an- 
other opportunity to build a new bilat- 
eral security relationship based on 
openness, trust, and cooperation. 

The U.S. -Mexican security rela- 
tionship is already underway in several 
areas, particularly in disrupting narco- 
trafficking. Beyond that, military-to- 
military bonds are growing as leaders 
build working relationships; our navies 
have begun staff talks; airborne forces 
have jumped out of each other's air- 
craft; U.S. officers teach English at 
Mexican military schools, while Mexi- 
can officers teach Spanish at U.S. facili- 
ties; and the carrier USS Kittyhawk re- 
cently received a warm welcome on a 
port call to Acapulco. 

Such bilateral activities will erect a 
new bridge between Washington and 
Mexico City. The United States already 
engages in similar activities with many 
nations in the hemisphere, including a 



bilateral working group with Argentina 
and, more recently, with Chile. In 
March 1996, I became the first Secre- 
tary of Defense to visit Venezuela. I am 
encouraging every hemispheric nation 
to fully participate in a range of activi- 
ties, such as more officer exchanges, 
more multilateral peacekeeping train- 
ing and exercises, and more coopera- 
tion on other real-world missions 
(such as disaster relief). Nations should 
develop more defense and military 
contacts, broader dialogue, and openly 
share information on everything from 
defense plans, policies, and priorities 
to specific missions. 



The nations of the hemisphere 
can still do much more. To ensure that 
we do, the defense ministers decided at 
Williamsburg to develop a process for 
working together. Just as James Madi- 
son created a democratic process for 
our Republic by drafting the U.S. Con- 
stitution, the hemispheric de- 
fense leaders developed a 
process to achieve the six 
Williamsburg principles, a 
mechanism the Argentine 
minister fittingly dubbed the 
"Williamsburg process." This 
procedure is based on dialogue and 
consensus-building and techniques to 
energize and consolidate democracies, 
and extends from formal agreements 
to personal relationships. 

The Defense Ministerial of the 
Americas laid a foundation for inter- 
hemispheric defense cooperation. The 
challenge ahead is to build on that and 
transform good intentions, good will, 
and common interests into concrete 
activities and achievements. The 
Williamsburg principles must be 
imbedded in security relationships 
throughout the hemisphere. Turning 
them into action will require consis- 
tent dialogue and frequent meetings. 
Argentina volunteered to host the next 



ministerial later 
this year, and de- 
fense leaders across the hemisphere are 
now shaping the agenda for it. 

If these activities continue, the de- 
fense establishments of the Western 
Hemisphere may well fulfill the dream 
of the great Latin American liberator, 
Simon Bolivar, who spoke of the Amer- 
icas becoming the greatest region on 
earth: "... not so much by virtue of 
their area or their wealth, but by their 
freedom." The United States has a 
tremendous stake in Bolivar's dream 
becoming reality and a major opportu- 
nity to advance it by building bridges 
with neighbors throughout the Ameri- 
cas. The poet Robert Frost suggested 
that "Good fences make good neigh- 
bors," but this does not always hold 
true. Instead, when neighbors share 
common ideals and concerns, and 
work together to achieve goals, it is 
good bridges that usually make good 
neighbors. JPQ 



the challenge ahead is to transform 
common interests into concrete 
activities and achievements 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 43 



DOD (R.D. Ward) 



■ JFQ FORUM 



A Former CIIUC Looks at 

Latin America 

By BARRY R. McCAFFREY 



Latin America and the Caribbean are poorly un- 
derstood by many North Americans whose super- 
ficial awareness of the nations to their south is 
limited to Cuba and Mexico, and perhaps to a be- 
lief that the other countries of the region are ho- 
mogeneous and Spanish-speaking. These people 
do not understand that the largest community in 
South America speaks Portuguese, that most in 
the Caribbean speak Spanish, and that Dutch, 
French, Guarani, and Quechua are important lan- 
guages. This perspective is further distorted by the 
prism of the 1960s and 1970s, when Latin Amer- 
ica was regarded as a land of military dictator- 
ships where elites ruled and human rights were 
violated. That false impression still endures today 
and influences U.S. policy toward the region. 



For this reason, Latin America is 
ranked low by Washington when it 
comes to economic, political, and in- 
ternational security priorities. Indeed, 
only one of six stated U.S. principal 
foreign policy objectives, countering 
drug trafficking, is regarded as at stake 
in the area. The low prominence of the 
Americas partially reflects a perception 
that there are no vital national security 
interests to the south of the United 
States that threaten our survival. Nor 
does the region have many problems 
in common with other areas of the 
world. It is not haunted by unstable 
regimes that blackmail other states. 
Neither are there hegemons that 
threaten their neighbors and necessi- 



tate a counterbalancing U.S. presence 
or rapid reinforcement. Nor are there 
rogue states that challenge the interna- 
tional order or sponsor terrorism. Eth- 
nic and religious strife do 
not tarnish the political 
scene. Finally, no failed 
states are fomenting civil 
war, chaotic fiefdoms, de- 
privation, or unchecked vi- 
olence. From all perspec- 
tives, it is a good news part of the 
world. But unfortunately this means 
that the United States is tempted to ig- 
nore the area. 

During the 1980s the reality was 
different, and many contend that U.S. 
attention to that part of the world was 



greater. In South America, a troubled 
Argentine dictatorship miscalculated 
and tragically went to war against 
Great Britain. At home, there was a 
rancorous debate over how to influ- 
ence the civil wars in Central Amer- 
ica — a controversy that culminated 
with the Iran-Contra hearings. Nicara- 
gua was seen as a communist foothold 
and Washington was appropriately in- 
tent on preventing a victory by Marx- 
ist insurgents in El Salvador. Indeed, 
U.S. policy toward Latin America was 
understandably heavily influenced by 
East-West ideological struggles. As late 
as 1987 there were 25 Marxist insur- 
gencies supported by the Soviet Union, 
Cuba, and Nicaragua in the area. In re- 
sponse, U.S. naval forces loitered off 
Central America, Washington trained 
and advised conventional and guerrilla 
forces, and the U.S. military considered 
how to more actively support allies 
who were mired in vicious internal 
warfare throughout Central America. 

Today the scene has improved 
dramatically. The Central American in- 
stability of the 1980s is essentially 
over. A U.N. peacekeeping operation 



successfully oversaw a reconciliation 
process in El Salvador. The disruptive 
Sandinista regime has been voted out 
of office in Nicaragua. The corrupt dic- 
tatorship of Manuel Noriega was re- 
placed by democracy in Panama. Only 
in Guatemala has turmoil persisted in 
a civil war which now seems to be 
slowly ending. In South America, the 
transition from authoritarianism to 
democracy has largely been completed. 



General Barry R. McCaffrey, USA (Ret.), is director of the Office on 
National Drug Control Policy and previously served as commander in 
chief, U.S. Southern Command. 



in South America, the transition from 
authoritarianism to democracy has 
largely been completed 



44 JFQ / Spring 1996 



McCaffrey 




While Jeffersonian democracy 
may not be the rule, political systems 
are becoming more responsive to wider 
constituencies. Military institutions are 
essentially loyal to constitutional and 
democratically elected governments. 
More than 830 million people in the 
Western Hemisphere live in democra- 
tic regimes, with only Cuba enslaved 
in tyranny. Our collective economies 
constitute a $13 trillion market. Intra- 
hemispheric commerce is striking. U.S. 
trade is greater with Brazil than China 
and with Venezuela than Russia, and 
greater with 3 million Costa Ricans 
than 100 million Eastern Europeans 
and with 14 million Chileans than a 
billion Indians. By the turn of the cen- 
tury, Latin America will have a $2 tril- 
lion economy. It will trade more than 
$600 billion in goods and services, and 
the level of U.S. trade with the region 
will exceed that with Europe. 

Clearly, this part of the world war- 
rants continued U.S. attention based 
on positive political and economic de- 
velopments. Despite its being an area 
where no vital national security inter- 
ests are at stake, we must still address 
the flow of drugs from and through it. 
Moreover, we must prevent uncon- 
trolled immigration from the region. 
In the past five years, eight of twenty- 
seven operations conducted by the 
Armed Forces dealt with unchecked 
immigration from Cuba and Haiti. 



Given the low level of threat to 
U.S. interests, few defense resources are 
apportioned to the region. Less than .2 
percent of our military (both active and 
Reserve) is assigned there. In fact, there 
are more DOD civilians in Japan than 
U.S. troops permanently assigned in 
Latin America. The share of the defense 
budget expended in the region is simi- 
larly small. So why does one of the five 
U.S. regional combatant commands 
watch the area? Absent the focus that a 
unified command brings to U.S. secu- 
rity dialogue with any region, meaning- 
ful security relations languish. A look at 
our security affiliation with sub-Saharan 
Africa supports that assertion. 

Regional Cooperative Security 

The role of U.S. Southern Com- 
mand (SOUTHCOM) is to support the 
objectives of U.S. policy in its assigned 
area of responsibility (AOR) — Central 
and South America with contiguous 
waters — and assist friendly nations. It 
is distinguished from the other re- 
gional commands in how the military 
instrument is used. SOUTHCOM is not 
about power projection or forward 
presence to dissuade potential adver- 
saries or assure access to strategic re- 
sources, but it could be. Planning con- 
ventional military operations is not 



U.S. and Ecuadorean the central focus, al- 
forces during though this type of 

Unitas exercise. planning is done. 

Nevertheless, the 
command is a strategic military head- 
quarters which has as its primary func- 
tion the command and control of de- 
ployed U.S. forces committed to 
national security policy objectives. To- 
ward that end, SOUTHCOM each year 
oversees the deployment of more than 
50,000 soldiers, sailors, marines, and 
airmen from the active and Reserve 
components. The three major elements 
of this strategy are building regional 
cooperative security, supporting the 
national counterdrug strategy, and fos- 
tering the development of appropriate 
Latin American militaries. 

Historical insecurities and border 
disputes continue to affect Latin Amer- 
ican contingency planning, procure- 
ment decisions, and force deploy- 
ments. SOUTHCOM believes that 
increasing professional interaction 
among militaries fosters cooperation in 
the security arena. This contact can re- 
duce the insecurities that influence de- 
fense planners and can help resolve 
long-standing disputes. National forces 
can then concentrate on peacekeeping, 
counterdrug operations, illegal migra- 
tion, arms smuggling, and the coopera- 
tive effort to manage land, sea, and air 
frontiers. 

The primary SOUTHCOM vehicle 
for promoting contact among the 
armed forces of Latin America is the 
foreign military interaction program. 
This program includes multinational 
exercises, conferences and symposia, 
personnel and unit exchanges, staff as- 
sistance and assessment visits, and ori- 
entations that are pursued without 
seeking to mediate or eliminate dis- 
agreements. Instead, we seek collabora- 
tion through activities that involve 
common interests. 

Peacekeeping Exercises. The mili- 
taries of Latin America contribute to 
various multinational peacekeeping 
operations. Argentina, Brazil, Colom- 
bia, and Venezuela have participated 
with great valor and effectiveness in 
former Yugoslavia. Brazil has played a 
superb leadership role in peace opera- 
tions in Angola and Mozambique, 
both Portuguese-speaking nations, 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 45 



■ JFQ FORUM 



while 39 percent of the highly profes- 
sional Uruguayan army has peacekeep- 
ing experience. Currently, 10 Latin 
American countries are participating in 
13 U.N. missions around the world. 

In August 1995 SOUTHCOM facili- 
tated a multinational peacekeeping ex- 
ercise in Argentina to foster coopera- 
tion among national military forces 
within the southern cone. The effort 
was led by the visionary chief of staff of 
the Argentine army, and featured a sce- 
nario that replicated challenges facing 



peacekeepers in Bosnia. A computer- 
assisted command post exercise drew 
players from the U.S. Army Peacekeep- 
ing Institute, U.S. Army School of 
the Americas, XVIII Airborne Corps, 
10 th Infantry (Mountain) Division, and 
U.S. Army South. This was the first time 
that protagonists in the War of the 
Triple Alliance (1865-70) — Argentina, 
Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay — came 
together in an exercise that emphasized 
the benefit of multinational military 
activities to regional security. A similar 
exercise is scheduled for Montevideo in 
August 1996. 

In addition, SOUTHCOM sup- 
ported multinational exercises (at the 
Joint Readiness Center, Fort Chaffee, 
Arkansas; San Juan, Puerto Rico; Na- 
tional Simulation Center, Fort Leaven- 
worth, Kansas; and Joint Task Force- 
Bravo, Honduras) which addressed 
mutual interests such as narco-guerril- 
las, disaster relief, or peacekeeping. 
Moreover, wargames that once focused 
on neighbors are no longer played. 
During the last year, approximately 
10,000 Latin American troops took 
part in SOUTHCOM-supported train- 
ing aimed at building regional cooper- 
ative security. 

Peacekeeping on the Ecuador-Peru 
Border. In January 1995, a traditional 
dispute between Ecuador and Peru 
over an undemarcated section of their 
border erupted. Although the fighting 
was confined to a remote jungle area, 
mobilization by both sides threatened 
a bloody conventional war similar to 



one conducted in 1941. Fortunately, 
this latest episode was halted by quick 
diplomatic and military efforts on the 
part of Argentina, Brazil, Chile, and 
the United States, who committed to 
guarantee the accord reached after the 
1941 clash. Since March 1995 military 
contingents from these guarantor na- 
tions have progressively solidified a 
standing cease-fire. The Military Ob- 
server Mission to Ecuador and Peru 
(MOMEP) has supervised the separa- 
tion of some 10,000 personnel located 
in the disputed area. Another 
150,000 troops were demobi- 
lized and returned to peacetime 
garrison duty. We are enor- 
mously proud that Ecuadorians 
and Peruvians have been inte- 
grated into the four-power ob- 
server force in which they constitute 
the majority of mission personnel. 

This casualty-free observer mis- 
sion is being conducted at essentially 
no cost to Argentina, Brazil, Chile, and 
the United States. Ecuador and Peru 
agreed to provide $15,000 daily, a bar- 
gain if compared to fighting a war — a 
half billion dollars for one month of 
tactical skirmishing. The mission has 
created military conditions that could 
lead to a diplomatic settlement. This 
process must be given time to take 
root. If an accord is not reached, the 
hemisphere risks serious fighting be- 
tween these nations. SOUTHCOM has 
a small contingent high in the Andes 
to support the effort. U.S. soldiers and 
airmen are providing helicopter lift, in- 
telligence, logistics, and command and 
control for this remarkable peacekeep- 
ing mission. 

Counterdrug Strategy 

Latin America is the source of the 
world's cocaine. Peru is the origin of 
two-thirds of the world's coca and Bo- 
livia is the second largest producer. 
Colombia is the only other country that 
raises a significant crop. The cocaine 
potential of South American coca in 
1994 exceeded 800 metric tons with a 
value of over $30 billion in the United 
States. The cultivation of Colombian 
opium has exploded over the past five 



MOMEP is being conducted at 
essentially no cost to Argentina, 
Brazil, Chile, and the United States 



years. In 1990 Colombia produced no 
heroin, yet today it accounts for 5 to 10 
percent of the international supply. 
Heroin sold on U.S. streets is ten times 
more pure than in the 1970s and sells at 
1.5 times the price. Each year, the drugs 
that come to the United States from 
Latin America — including almost 300 
tons of cocaine — cause irreparable 
harm, contributing annually to 10,000 
deaths and a $67 billion price tag asso- 
ciated with drug abuse. 

The economic power of drug traf- 
fickers makes them almost invulnera- 
ble to the unassisted counterdrug ef- 
forts of Latin American governments. 
In Colombia, for example, annual pro- 
ceeds from trafficking by the cocaine 
cartels is about $8 billion. This is more 
than total legal exports in 1992 and 
about 10 percent of the gross domestic 
product (GDP). The influence of the 
cartels is so great that allegations of 
their contributions to the 1994 presi- 
dential campaign led to a constitu- 
tional crisis. Undoubtedly, the notion 
of a narco-democracy is a threat to the 
entire region. 

Closer to home, the route for 70 
percent of all cocaine entering the 
United States is Mexico. Traffickers 
made an estimated $30 billion profit 
last year according to Mexico's attorney 
general. Drugs have been transported 
into Mexico with almost total impunity 
on commercial jets and then to the U.S. 
market. Methamphetamines, once an 
almost exclusively domestically manu- 
factured drug pushed by California 
biker gangs, is produced in Mexico for 
buyers in the United States. Clearly, the 
illegal drug trade is a transnational 
threat that requires international coop- 
eration to be countered. 

Over the past six years SOUTH- 
COM counterdrug efforts have sought 
to build a consensus on the drug threat 
in the region. Among them is the de- 
velopment of multinational capabili- 
ties that can be directed against the 
drug trade. There have been numerous 
encouraging tactical successes. Sus- 
tained operations against small planes 
flying coca paste between Peru and 
Colombia are paying off. Smugglers 
risk interception and being shot down 
or having their aircraft impounded or 
destroyed after landing. That increased 
risk is reflected by a nine-fold increase 



46 JFQ / Spring 1996 



McCaffrey 



in costs, amounting to $180,000 per 
flight in 1995. It is also seen in de- 
pressed prices for coca leaves in Peru 
where the cost has dropped by over 60 
percent in some cases as supplies ex- 
ceed the ability to process and trans- 
port coca paste. We have great respect 
for the valor and skill of the Colom- 
bian and Peruvian police and military 
in their struggle against this violent in- 
ternational threat. 

Nevertheless, such successes are 
not directed by an operational instru- 
ment that is capable of having a pro- 
nounced effect on the price, purity, 
and availability of cocaine in the 




Coast Guard inspecting 
Unloading C-5 at merchant ship. 

Howard Air Force 
Base, Panama. 



United States. Nor have international 
efforts succeeded in reducing the over- 
all supply. In Bolivia, for example, 
where the U.S. Government has main- 
tained an extensive counterdrug pres- 
ence for the last decade, there has been 
no significant decrease in acreage dedi- 
cated to coca. A contributing problem 
is that there is no government agency 
analogous to SOUTHCOM to consoli- 
date international counterdrug efforts. 
Thus the approach to this 
transnational problem has 
been to work on a country- 
by-country basis. One solu- 
tion is to create a regional 
coordinator for counter- 
drug programs undertaken 
by U.S. agencies. The tactical success of 
interdiction efforts inspired by 
SOUTHCOM — which amount to less 
than 1 percent of the U.S. counterdrug 
budget — suggest that unity of effort 
can bring greater success. This menace 
demands international will, coopera- 
tion, and sustained operations. 

National Military Forces 

The primary value of SOUTHCOM 
programs is extensive interaction with 
national military forces in the AOR. At 
the forefront of the command's efforts 
are security assistance organizations 
(SAOs) and defense attache teams that 
are part of U.S. missions. These activi- 
ties serve complementary but mutually 
exclusive functions. SAOs are subordi- 



nate to SOUTHCOM and normally 
have command and control over de- 
ployed U.S. military elements within 
the country to which they are accred- 
ited. Defense attaches on the other 
hand respond to the Defense Intelli- 
gence Agency and are essentially 
friendly and overt intelligence collec- 
tors. Some have suggested merging 
these two organizations to conserve 
manpower. Yet there are fewer than 



200 military personnel assigned to 
such positions in Central and South 
America, and consolidating them 
could result in both functions being 
executed poorly. 

SOUTHCOM experience suggests 
a variety of observations about the mil- 
itaries of the region to examine. 

Despite accusations to the contrary, 
national military forces do not cause most 
regional ills. Defense spending in Latin 
America is extremely low; in fact, no 
other region expends so little on either 
a per capita basis or as a percentage of 
GDR Like most militaries of the world, 
these proud national institutions are 
products of unique historical, political, 

(continued on page SO) 



defense spending in Latin America is 
extremely low; in fact, no other region 
expends so little on a per capita basis 




Spring 1996 / JFQ 47 



U.S. Air Force (Frank Oplanic) 



U.S. Army (Larry Lane) 



U.S. SOUTHERN COMMAND 



MISSION: The primary mission of 
U.S. Southern Command (SOUTHCOM) is to 
establish and implement plans, programs, 
and policies in peacetime, conflict, and war 
which will contribute to the defense of the 
United States and its allies, and protect and 
promote U.S. interests in Latin America. 
Other major missions include conducting 
disaster relief and humanitarian operations; 
monitoring security assistance programs in 
the region; conducting combat, counternar- 
cotics, counterterrorism, counterinsurgency, 
and nation assistance; defending the 
Panama Canal; and implementing the 
Panama Canal Treaty-2000. 

BACKGROUND: The command traces 
its origins to the arrival of marines in 
Panama in 1903, days after Panama 



declared independence from Colombia. The 
Army arrived in 191 1 , three years before the 
canal opened. U.S. military strength peaked 
at 67,000 in Panama during World War II. 
After the war, Army, Navy, and Air Force 
components were joined to form Caribbean 
Command which was redesignated SOUTH- 
COM in 1 963. Under the Panama Canal 
Treaty, signed in 1977, the waterway will be 
turned over to Panama on December 31 , 
1999. However, the United States is commit- 
ted to guaranteeing the neutrality of the 
canal “indefinitely.” 

AREA OF RESPONSIBILITY: The 

geographic region assigned to SOUTHCOM 
recently was expanded to include the waters 
adjoining Central and South America and the 
Gulf of Mexico, areas that were formerly the 



responsibility of U.S. Atlantic Command 
(ACOM). This change satisfies two key ob- 
jectives. The first is to enhance the com- 
mand’s interaction with the navies of Central 
and South America. The second is to have 
one commander in control of all U.S. military 
activities in the Caribbean basin as well as 
in Central and South America. Because of 
long-standing relations between the 
Caribbean and ACOM, including ongoing 
U.N. operations in Haiti and counterdrug 
operations across the region, the transfer 
will occur in two phases (see map). Phase I, 
implemented on January 1 , 1 996, trans- 
ferred responsibility for the waters adjoining 
Central and South America. Phase II— to be 
executed only on order of the Secretary of 
Defense, but not earlier than June 1, 1997 — 
will transfer responsibility for the Caribbean 
Sea and its island nations, the Gulf of 
Mexico, and an additional portion of the 
Atlantic Ocean. 



Brazilian carrier 
Minas Gerais off 
Rio de Janeiro. 




Miraflores Locks, 
Panama Canal. 



48 JFQ / Spring 1996 



U.S. Navy (Tracy Lee Didas) 



COMPONENT COMMANDS: 

U.S. Army South (USARSO); U.S. Southern 
Air Force (USAFSO)— 1 2 th Air Force; U.S. 
Atlantic Fleet (LANTFLT); U.S. Marine Corps 
Forces, SOUTHCOM (MARFORSOUTH); and 
Special Operations Command SOUTHCOM 
(SOCSOUTH). JFQ 



SOUTHCOM 
headquarters, 
Quarry Heights. 






ECUADOR 



Phase I 



Mexican training ship 
Comodoro Manuel 
Azueta in Tampa. 



Phase II 



Quarry Heights 

( W PANAMA 

J COSTARICA 



DOMINICAN REPUBLIC 



^ Miami 



28° North 



MEXICO 



Venezuelan army 
troops. 



SOUTH GEORGIA ISLAND 



MALVINAS / FALKLAND 
ISLANDS 



The geographic area of responsibility for the 
conduct of normal SOUTHCOM operations includes Central 
and South America and the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans 
from 92° West, east to 30° West, north to 8° North, west to 
the Guyana/Venezuela coastal border, and coastal waters 
out to 12 nautical miles north to the Belize/Mexico border. 
On order of the Secretary of Defense, but not earlier 
than June 1, 1997, the Caribbean Sea and its 
island nations and European possessions, 
the Gulf of Mexico, and the Atlantic 
Ocean south of 28° North and 
west of 58° West will be added 
to this area of responsibility. 

In 1997, SOUTHCOM head- 
quarters will be relocated 
from Quarry Heights, 

Panama, to 
Miami, Florida. 



COLOMBIA 



8° North 






I 

CO 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 



49 



Carlos Hernandez-Gonzalez 





■jfq forum 



(continued from page 47) 

and social dynamics. Each reflects 
these factors in its organization and 
corporate ethic. Less military is not the 
solution to challenges of poverty, in- 
justice, economic development, and 
drugs in Latin America. 

Most national military forces are pro- 
fessional and honorable. Moreover, 
many have strong support and trust 
from citizens. They are led by superbly 
qualified officers such as Martin Balza 
of Argentina, Benedito Leonel of 
Brazil, Moises Orozco of Venezuela, 
and Jaime Guzman Morales of El Sal- 
vador who understand national secu- 
rity and fiscal realities. They are work- 
ing to maintain disciplined, modern 
forces capable of accomplishing their 
constitutional tasks. 

National military forces may be inap- 
propriately organized and equipped. Some 
navies seek blue water capabilities in- 
stead of more functional brown water 
ones, purchasing diesel submarines and 
destroyers instead of coastal and riverine 
patrol craft, while air forces acquire jet 
air-to-air fighters instead of short take- 
off and landing utility aircraft, coastal 
patrol aircraft, and helicopters. Their 
armies feature main battle tanks, ar- 
tillery, and conscript regiments instead 
of professional active/reserve units orga- 
nized for peacekeeping, counterdrug, 
and engineering/medical operations. In 
most cases a focus on external threats 
may be less appropriate than one ad- 
dressing the new challenges of the 21 st 
century. Some Latin Americans see the 
belief that a force's professionalism is a 
function of its similarity to Lirst World 
military forces as contributing to a dis- 
connect between organization and mis- 
sions. It is encouraging to note that our 
senior colleagues reject the notion that 
the trappings of a modern military 
force — doctrine, echeloned headquar- 
ters, traditional branches, war colleges, 
etc. — automatically confers profession- 
alism. 

Our allies reject the notion of na- 
tional military forces that are corrupt, dis- 
trustful of civilian rule, and concerned pri- 
marily with self enrichment. One 
example of such an organization was 
the Panamanian Defense Lorce that 
under Manuel Noriega formed a part- 
nership with Colombian drug cartels. 



SOUTHCOM contacts with regional al- 
lies have reinforced this continued 
focus on more professional and demo- 
cratic values. 

In all dealings with Latin Ameri- 
can militaries, SOUTHCOM seeks to 
function in a collegial manner. It is 
only through shared, respectful dia- 
logue that change can be achieved. 
The reality is that the command can- 
not be the agent of radical change in 
the region's militaries. SOUTHCOM 
must assist in a balanced manner, ever 
mindful of the right of each nation to 
establish its own forces and doctrine as 
a function of national sovereignty. 

Human Rights 

While the region has been marked 
by enormous political and economic 
success, there have also been egregious 
abuses of human rights committed by 
state and non-state actors including 
the military, police, insurgents, politi- 
cal organizations, and individuals. But 
there is reason to believe the human 
rights record will continue to improve. 
Strengthening of democratic institu- 
tions and the end of Cuban-Soviet in- 
spired insurgency make subversion, 
terrorism, and associated restraints on 
civil liberties less likely. Individual 
rights have also been strengthened by 
societies that hold governments more 
accountable and by contributions from 
non-governmental organizations. 

As each nation debates how to ad- 
dress the legacy of human rights 
abuses, SOUTHCOM has moved to in- 
tegrate human rights into all of its in- 
teractions with Latin American mili- 



taries. The military utility of respecting 
human rights in peace as well as war is 
stressed. In Lebruary 1996, SOUTH- 
COM and the Inter-American Institute 
of Human Rights sponsored a confer- 
ence in Miami on "The Role of the 
Armed Lorces in the Protection 
of Human Rights." Six government 
ministers and eight chiefs of services 
attended this first regional military hu- 



man rights conference. Other partici- 
pants included the Secretary General 
of the Organization of American 
States, Cesar Gaviria, and representa- 
tives from academe, the media, diplo- 
matic corps, and nongovernmental or- 
ganizations. The involvement of 
interagency, nongovernmental, and 
academic spheres in the SOUTHCOM 
human rights program has been key to 
its success. It reinforces the concept 
that the military is accountable di- 
rectly to civilian governments and in- 
directly to the people they protect. 

The Future 

The Panama Canal Treaty signed 
in 1977 by Presidents Carter and Torri- 
jos transferred both the ownership of 
and responsibility for the canal to 
Panama. Moreover, it stipulated that 
the U.S. military presence in Panama 
would end at noon on December 31, 
1999. U.S. forces are drawing down and 
returning facilities at a pace that can be 
accommodated by the local authorities. 
While no U.S. vital national security in- 
terests demand a continued forward 
presence in Panama, it could have mili- 
tary utility. Many argue it would also 
contribute to regional stability. A post- 
1999 presence would only be feasible if 
the U.S. and Panamanian governments 
conclude that a common good can be 
served by such an arrangement. In Sep- 
tember 1995 Presidents Clinton and 
Balladares agreed to hold exploratory 
talks on the matter. 

In 1997, the 800 personnel of the 
joint SOUTHCOM headquarters will re- 
locate to Miami, the point of conver- 
gence for the Caribbean 
and Central and South 
America. Miami was se- 
lected for its regional ties: 
85 percent of the flights 
by U.S. flag carriers to 
Central and South Amer- 
ica operate out of Miami; all Latin 
American and Caribbean countries 
have consulates there; 30 percent of 
U.S. trade with those countries goes 
through its port; and more than two 
million Latin Americans visit yearly. By 
all indicators, Miami is the economic, 
communications, and transportation 



the sweeping progress in Latin America 
calls for new strategic thinking and 
international security arrangements 



50 JFQ / Spring 1996 



McCaffrey 




Scout training in 
Panama. 

hub of the Americas. It is the logical 
place for the headquarters responsible 
for U.S. military operations in the 
Caribbean and Latin America — the 
SOUTHCOM charter under the recently 
modified unified command plan (see 
map on page 49). 

The sweeping progress in Latin 
America, the result of democratic and 
economic reform, calls for new strate- 
gic thinking and international security 
arrangements. As a free trade area em- 
bracing all of the hemisphere emerges 
within the next ten years, a goal set at 
the Miami Summit of the Americas in 
December 1994, we cannot afford to 
ignore the nontraditional threats to 
our national security that emanate 
from the region: illegal migration, drug 
trafficking, terrorism, and violations of 
intellectual content and patents of U.S. 
products. In fact, many people see 
lower trade barriers as a downside that 
creates vulnerabilities which will be ex- 
ploited by international criminal orga- 
nizations. This is a serious concern as 
customs formalities on the U.S. -Mexico 
border are liberalized under the North 
American Free Trade Agreement. 

Most problems cannot and should 
not be addressed in military terms. In- 
stead, they require collective efforts by 
all societies affected. Absent a coherent 
interagency strategy to address these 



threats, U.S. suc- 
cesses will be tacti- 
cal and episodic. 

They will mostly 
cause non-state ac- 
tors to shift their patterns of operation. 
The drug cartels and sophisticated ille- 
gal alien smuggling rings will continue 
to violate state sovereignty almost at 
will. Nevertheless, the Armed Forces can 
contribute to national and regional se- 
curity by continuing modest interac- 
tions with the militaries of Latin Amer- 
ica. We can help defuse conventional 
military crises — as we did on the 
Ecuador-Peru border. We can help com- 
mitted nations stop drug traffickers 
from violating sovereign land, sea, and 
air space — as we have done with coordi- 
nated efforts against the Colombia-Peru 
airbridge. We can contribute to the on- 
going debate over appropriate roles and 
missions of the armed forces in democ- 
ratic societies. While this is a debate 
that must take place in each country, we 
can share our experience. Forums such 
as the Williamsburg Defense Ministerial 
which brought together defense leaders 
from the hemisphere and SOUTHCOM- 
sponsored symposia facilitate those de- 
bates. We can also help countries reor- 
ganize and modernize their forces under 
democratic leadership. 



Extracting marines 
during exercise on 

SOUTHCOM Panama Canal. 

believes that mili- 
tary operations 

today offer a model for security dia- 
logue in the context of interstate rela- 
tions that are not fundamentally based 
on traditional security concerns. The 
command is about professionals col- 
laborating to tackle transnational 
problems and achieving efficiency 
through shared ideas. It focuses on ad- 
vancing regional security through ex- 
changes and confidence building mea- 
sures. Finally, the intention of 
SOUTHCOM is to contribute to stabil- 
ity, the precursor of democracy and 
economic growth. Current U.S. mili- 
tary strategy for the Americas is sound. 
Washington spends only a fraction of 
its defense resources in the region — 
less than .2 percent of its budget and 
under 5 percent of security assistance 
funds. These are sums that many part- 
ners of the United States in the region 
feel is money well spent. JPQ 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 51 



U.S. Marine Corps (Timothy E. LeMaster) U.S. Marine Corps (Timothy E. LeMaster) 




U.S. Army (Stuart J. Gubler) 



Santiago River (fore- 
ground) and Yaupi 
River on Ecuador-Peru 
border. 



Operation 
Safe Border: 

The Ecuador-Peru Crisis 

By GLENN R. WEIDNER 



In January 1995, the hemisphere was shocked by an outbreak 
of fighting between Ecuador and Peru over a long-festering 
border dispute. During a six- week period, more than 100,000 
men were mobilized, fleets were deployed, air forces capable of 
striking the respective capitals of each protagonist were reposi- 

tioned, and both sides suffered as 

many as 300 casualties in fierce com- 
bat in the upper Cenepa Valley. 



Colonel Glenn R. Weidner, USA, is commander of the U.S. 
Military Group-Honduras and served as commander of the 
U.S. Contingent, Military Observer Mission, Ecuador-Peru. 



52 JFQ / Spring 1996 



W e i d n e r 




A corner of disputed 
territory. 



Coming in the wake of the De- 
cember 1994 hemispheric Miami sum- 
mit, the conflict posed a serious threat 
to regional stability. Rapid, effective re- 
sponses by guarantors of the 1942 Pro- 
tocol of Rio de Janeiro — Argentina, 
Brazil, Chile, and the United States — 
helped to stop hostilities and created 
conditions for negotiating a diplomatic 
solution to a complex and highly emo- 
tional problem of long standing. 

The Military Observer Mission, 
Ecuador/Peru (MOMEP) may become 
an historic example of effective multi- 
national peacekeeping. This operation 
was successful because of unprece- 
dented cooperation between political 
and military representatives of the guar- 
antors and the strong desire of the bel- 
ligerents to end the hostilities quickly. 

The roots of the conflict lie in a 
dispute between the two countries 
over the delimitation and demarcation 
of the border along an isolated stretch 
of jungle highlands characterized by 
extremely difficult terrain and contin- 
uous cloud cover. 1 Although the dis- 
pute extends back to the colonial pe- 
riod, the consequences of a war 
between these countries in 1941 was 
particularly relevant to the observer 
mission. In that year, Peru invaded 
southern Ecuador and forced a settle- 
ment under the 1942 Rio Protocol. 



That agreement committed both par- 
ties to a cessation of hostilities and de- 
fined a common border based on the 
limited geophysical data which existed 
at that time. 

Unfortunately, the demarcation 
was never completed because of a geo- 
physical anomaly that was discovered 
in the upper Cenepa Valley in 1946. 
Since 1960, Ecuador has insisted that 
the protocol is not executable in that 
area and is suggesting a claim to exten- 
sive territory in the Amazon Basin. 
Peru, on the other hand, asserted that 
the protocol is valid and has consid- 
ered the disputed territory to be sover- 
eign. As a result, numerous small-scale 
clashes have erupted in the area over 



the past fifty years, usually near the 
January anniversary of the signing of 
the protocol. 

Border War 

In December 1994, Peruvian intel- 
ligence confirmed that the Ecuadore- 
ans had established base camps in the 
disputed area. 2 Combat operations 
began with Peruvian air and ground at- 
tacks in the vicinity of the 
Cenepa and at the confluence of 
the Santiago and Yaupi Rivers. 
Over six weeks, both sides man- 
aged to introduce more than 
5,000 troops in a 70-square kilo- 
meter area of extremely dense 
jungle. Meanwhile, general mobiliza- 
tion produced the forward deployment 
of six Peruvian divisions along the 
coastal plain, as well as the equivalent 
of four Ecuadorean brigades to their 
immediate front. With fleets at sea, 
high-performance aircraft forward-de- 
ployed, and combat in the Cenepa re- 
gion, the danger of escalation was sig- 
nificant. By mid-February, however, as 
the extent of casualties and the eco- 
nomic impact of the fighting became 
increasingly clear, a battlefield stale- 
mate developed. Diplomatic pressure 
from the guarantor nations of the 1942 



protocol brought the parties to the ne- 
gotiating table and ultimately to a 
peace agreement, the Declaration of 
Itamaraty on March 17, 1995. 

The declaration required that 
both sides cease hostilities, demobilize, 
and support activities of a military ob- 
server mission provided by the guaran- 
tors that had an initial mandate of 
ninety days and could be extended on 
request of the parties. The accord's lan- 
guage provided for the separation of 
forces under observer supervision and 
obligated observers to establish opera- 
tions centers and recommend an "area 
to be totally demilitarized" by each 
side. The accord committed both par- 
ties and guarantors to construct a defi- 
nition of procedures for the observer 
mission which would detail its organi- 
zation and employment. Finally, it 
committed the two parties to begin 
substantive talks, with the assistance of 
the guarantors, on the underlying bor- 
der issue, with a view to demarcation 
and a return to normal relations. 

Brazil's offer to provide a general 
officer as the chief of the observer mis- 
sion was accepted by the guarantors 
with qualifications. Deliberations over 
the definition of procedures, princi- 
pally on the issue of command rela- 
tionships, lasted for almost a month, 
during which time a number of cease- 
fire violations erupted in the conflict 



both sides managed to introduce 
more than 5,000 troops in a 
70-square kilometer area of jungle 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 53 



U.S. Army (Douglas Ide) 



■ JFQ FORUM 



Reaching outpost by air. 




Briefing visitors at 
Coangos. 



zone and around isolated outposts 
along the demarcated border some 60 
kilometers to the northeast. 

A compromise on command rela- 
tionships was finally reached in early 
March. To preserve the coequal status 
of guarantor contingents, the Brazilian 
general was defined as coordinator 
rather than commander. Each nation 
would contribute up to ten officers as 
observers, led by a colonel, and the 
United States would provide an ele- 
ment consisting of aviation, opera- 
tions, intelligence, communications, 
and logistical support. 

The Brazilian general would exer- 
cise operational control (OPCON) over 
the observers from all four nations, 
while the colonels retained command 



for administrative and disciplinary 
purposes, less OPCON, over their con- 
tingents. The U.S. colonel would retain 
command as well as OPCON over the 
support element. The political direc- 
tion of the mission would be exercised 
via a committee consisting of a repre- 
sentative of the Brazilian foreign min- 
istry and the ambassadors of Ar- 
gentina, Chile, and the United States 
resident in Brasilia. (This function was 
later assumed by a group of so-called 
high functionaries who represented 
the guarantors directly from their re- 
spective capitals.) The ad hoc commit- 
tee of ambassadors was advised by at- 
taches in Brasilia, under the 
coordination of a general officer from 
Brazil's armed forces general staff. 



MOMEP Deploys 

On March 10, the definition of 
procedures was signed. Late that same 
night, a JCS execute order was released 
permitting deployment of the U.S. 
contingent. An advance party of the 
support element arrived in Ecuador 
and began to receive deployment air- 
craft at Patuca and Macas, a C-130-ca- 
pable strip some 60 kilometers to the 
north. The observer contingents de- 
ployed from Brasilia on March 11, di- 
viding between the Peruvian regional 
military headquarters at El Milagro and 
the Ecuadorean base at Patuca. 

The coordinator, Lieutenant Gen- 
eral Candido Vargas de Freire from 
Brazil, and a staff that consisted of se- 
nior colonels from each national con- 
tingent, arrived at Patuca on March 12. 
There they found that the U.S. support 
element had established headquarters 
facilities, an encampment for troops, 
and barracks for observers on a base oc- 
cupied by the Ecuadorean 21 st Jungle 
Infantry Brigade. UH-60s had arrived 
earlier that day, self-deploying from an 
intermediate staging base at Guayaquil. 
As the sun fell behind the mountains, 
the MOMEP staff met to spell out an 
approach to operations and a strategy 
for initial contacts with local comman- 
ders of the two parties. 

Concept of Operations 

U.S. Southern Command (SOUTH- 
COM) had analyzed the mission and 
provided the U.S. contingent comman- 
der with guidance on certain funda- 
mentals. For example, no operation 
would be undertaken unless it led to 
achieving the results outlined in the 
Declaration of Itamaraty; also, the 
safety of personnel and equipment was 
paramount. MOMEP had no mandate 
to enforce the peace since it was only 
constituted to observe and verify com- 
pliance under the terms of the accord. 
For those reasons, the United States 
adopted a policy of no foot patrols in 
the conflict zone because of the danger 
of mines and the proximity of the con- 
testing forces, and forbad use of the he- 
licopters of either party for observer op- 
erations. The U.S. representative also 
stressed the requirement for the parties 
to accept a defined demilitarized zone 
(DMZ) as a precondition for operations. 



54 JFQ / Spring 1996 



W e i d n e r 



Original Security Area and Demilitarized Zone. 




General Freire felt strongly that 
the DMZ was too sensitive an issue to 
raise at this point; the parties would 
begin endless haggling, preventing the 
mission from proceeding to the separa- 
tion of forces. To Freire, the DMZ rep- 
resented the end result of MOMEP ac- 
tions rather than a control measure for 
conducting operations. Nonetheless a 
general outline for a four-phase opera- 
tion was accepted. Describing the con- 
ditions for both parties, and the corre- 
sponding tasks for MOMEP, it 
contemplated a preparatory phase 
(MOMEP deployment, liaison, a secu- 
rity area as a substitute for the DMZ, 
and initial requirements for the order 
of battle in the area), supervision of 
the cease-fire, separation of belligerent 
forces, and finally the demobilization 
of units outside the conflict zone and 
establishment of the DMZ. This con- 
cept was accepted by both parties. 

In the meantime, Latin American 
observers, less U.S. counterparts and 

MOMEP concentrated on 
observer reliefs and plans 
to separate forces in the 
security area 

communications, deployed to two 
concentration points by Peruvian and 
Ecuadorean helicopters and relieved at- 
taches who had acted as interim ob- 
servers while the Brasilia negotiations 
were concluded. On March 17, UH-60s 
brought a complete multinational ob- 
server team to Coangos. On the 21 st , 
the requisite assurances of control over 
air defense weapons were obtained 
from Peru, and a U.S. observer and 
communicator were transported to 
PV1 to join Argentinean, Brazilian, and 
Chilean observers who rotated by Pe- 
ruvian helicopters from El Milagro. 
From then on, relief of both posts was 
conducted at 3-day intervals (weather 
permitting) without incident. 

Separation of Forces 

Between March 12 and 31, 
MOMEP concentrated on conducting 
observer reliefs at the two concentra- 
tion points and preparing plans to sep- 
arate forces in the security area. The 
two parties had cooperated with the 



mission requirement to submit a list- 
ing of units, personnel, and weapons 
in the area but were reluctant to trust 
the other party to comply with 
MOMEP directives. The staff consid- 
ered a series of factors in preparing the 
plan before communicating it to the 
parties: 

■ Units were intermingled on the bat- 
tlefield due to the density of the jungle and 
the narrow concealed trails between fight- 
ing positions. Mines had been emplaced 
throughout the area — some 6,000 by 
Ecuador alone — often without proper reg- 
istry. Generalized withdrawals were certain 
to provoke firing incidents or mine injuries. 



■ Ecuador had managed to infiltrate a 
unit into the Peruvian rear, capable of at- 
tacking their primary base at PV1 or cutting 
their main supply route into the upper 
Cenepa. It was clear that the Ecuadorean 
unit had to be removed at the start to per- 
mit future Peruvian withdrawals. 

■ Two contested bases, Tiwintza and 
Base Sur, were invested with a degree of 
emotional significance that far outweighed 
their political or military significance. Both 
sides claimed to have taken them. Ecuador 
insisted that MOMEP publicly take physical 
possession of their version of these bases to 
confirm its battlefield gains. MOMEP re- 
fused to do any such thing. 

■ Peru's national elections were 
scheduled for April 9. President Fujimori 
had announced the taking of Tiwintza and 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 55 





■ JFQ FORUM 




any action by MOMEP that tended to prove 
or disprove that statement would compli- 
cate Peru's domestic political situation. 

■ Because of its relative logistical ca- 
pabilities, Ecuador could conduct aerial ex- 
traction from a number of landing zones 
within the conflict area, but Peru had to 
move forces on foot to PV1 or Cueva de los 
Tallos for pickup by helicopters — a process 
that could require up to 48 hours for each 
unit, given the terrain and weather. 

The MOMEP staff designed a six- 
week program of directed withdrawals 
of 60-odd units deployed in the con- 
flict zone. Each side was told to first 
concentrate by echelon, drawing com- 
bat outposts and patrols to squad-level 
positions, and squads to platoons. 
They then received phased require- 
ments for extraction of specific units. 
Each unit was notified to move to des- 
ignated points. Helicopters then took 
them to the MOMEP observers, who 
logged in departing soldiers, weapons, 
and equipment. Troops moved on 
from there by air and road (in the case 
of Ecuador) to garrisons. This proce- 
dure, despite evident flaws from an ac- 
countability standpoint, resulted in 
the extraction of over 5,000 soldiers, 
without incident, in just five weeks. It 
was successful simply because the par- 
ties were eager to comply with a 
process that permitted them to disen- 
gage without renouncing their honor 
or territorial claims and the fact that 
MOMEP provided a veneer of control. 

As the separation of forces contin- 
ued, both Ecuador and Peru pressured 



Military representa- 
tives of guarantor 

nations (Argentina, MOMEP to verify 

Brazil, Chile, and the demobilization in 

United States) and areas outside of 

MOMEP coordinator the conflict zone. 

genera1. Sensing eagerness 

on the part of 
both sides to demobilize, the staff di- 
rected them to provide a demobiliza- 
tion plan to MOMEP. Then the staff 
met with both liaison officers to con- 
struct a simultaneous and proportional 
schedule of withdrawals into peace- 
time garrisons of those units deployed 
forward during the conflict. 

From May 3 to 13, two MOMEP 
verification teams traveled to various 
demobilization sites on each side of 
the border. Each received a briefing by 
the unit commander, presided at for- 
mal demobilization ceremonies, and 
inspected the garrison or abandoned 
position to verify that forces had re- 
turned to a peacetime readiness pos- 
ture. The verification was admittedly 
superficial, given the rapid pace of de- 
mobilization and small size of the ob- 
server mission. Nonetheless, by May 
13 each side had substantially returned 
to its pre-conflict military posture. If 
slight variations existed in the postwar 
configuration of forward units in 
peacetime garrisons, they were not sig- 
nificant enough to permit either side a 
destabilizing capability. 



DMZ Agreement 

By early May 1995, MOMEP had 
accomplished most of the specified 
tasks in the Itamaraty accord and also 
settled into a routine of aerial patrols 
over the security area, relief of ob- 
servers on Coangos and PV1, and peri- 
odic insertion of operations centers at 
Base Sur and Tiwintza. With the upper 
Cenepa clear of troops except for token 
forces at Coangos and PV1, MOMEP 
had achieved conditions for the rec- 
ommendation to the parties of a DMZ, 
as required in the mandate. 

Six options which had been pre- 
pared as early as April ranged from a 
narrow strip between Coangos and 
PV1 to a 20 kilometer strip that ran the 
length of the border. Each was ana- 
lyzed from the standpoint of military 
justification and political significance. 
MOMEP had to maintain complete im- 
partiality and divorce the DMZ from 
ultimate adjudications of territorial 
claims while considering each side's 
view of its sovereign interests. 

Accordingly, MOMEP proposed to 
guarantor diplomats in Brasilia that the 
existing security area become the DMZ 
with garrisons of 50 troops at PV1 and 
Coangos. The recommendation was de- 
livered on May 3. While Peru accepted 
immediately, Ecuador rejected it, citing 
that it was unjust and betrayed earlier 
MOMEP assurances that the security 
area was not to be related "either to a 
final border solution or to a demilita- 
rized area." At the heart of Ecuador's 
protest was a minor logistics base, Ban- 
deras, within the DMZ. 

During the last stage of the sepa- 
ration, the Ecuadorean liaison officer 
brought up the issue with MOMEP, 
stating that Ecuador should not be re- 
quired to evacuate Banderas, because it 
was in uncontested Ecuadorean terri- 
tory and had long been the site of a 
border detachment. He based the con- 
tinued need for occupying Banderas on 
the security and humanitarian support 
of the indigenous population of 60 to 
70 families. 

Two-tiered negotiations by guar- 
antor high functionaries and the vice 
foreign ministers of Peru and Ecuador 
were held on June 19-26. While the 
diplomats dealt with normalizing rela- 
tions, the MOMEP staff explored DMZ 
adjustments and a draft definition of 



56 JFQ / Spring 1996 




W e i d n e r 



Supplemental Security Area Northeast of Demilitarized Zone. 




procedures with the liaison officers. 
However as the Ecuadorean presence at 
Banderas was revealed, the Peruvians 
threatened to break off negotiations. 
MOMEP met through the night of 



June 25-26, promoting an adjustment 
that had been sketched out in a private 
meeting between the liaison officers. 
Both sides informed the guarantors 
that they wished to suspend talks to 
consult their respective capitals. The 
MOMEP staff returned to Patuca faced 
with the obligation to take action re- 
garding the apparent Ecuadorean pres- 
ence at Banderas. 

At the urging of the guarantor 
diplomats, the MOMEP staff initiated a 
three-week series of meetings with the 
liaison officers in Quito and Lima to 
break the impasse. Based on adjust- 
ments drafted in Brasilia and a MOMEP 



verification team situated at Banderas, 
a compromise was finally reached. An 
historic meeting was arranged in Lima 
for July 24-25 for the two liaison offi- 
cers to sign a DMZ agreement on be- 
half of their respective gov- 
ernments. It described a 
quadrangle (see the inset 
map on page 55) covering 
the majority of the security 
area but left Banderas ex- 
cluded. As a confidence 
measure, each side agreed to periodic 
inspections near the DMZ to assure an 
equilibrium of forces. 

News of this historic agreement 
was transmitted in time to be an- 
nounced by Secretary of Defense 
William Perry at the closing session of 
the Hemispheric Defense Ministerial 
that was being held in Williamsburg — 
a fitting example of regional coopera- 
tion on defense issues in line with the 
principles enunciated at that impor- 
tant meeting. 



MOMEP II 

With the establishment of the de- 
militarized zone on August 1, the 
MOMEP staff returned to negotiating 
procedures for continuing the mission. 
Early on, U.S. Ambassador Luigi Ein- 
audi had outlined a long-term plan 
whereby most observer tasks would be 
turned over to military officers of the 
parties to permit a drawdown of guar- 
antor presence. This approach, to- 
gether with an expanded MOMEP 
mandate to verify demobilization and 
demilitarization, was at the heart of 
the draft given to the liaison officers. 
The integration would be conducted 
incrementally from the top down over 
ninety days and result in a combined 
MOMEP staff, support element staff, 
and observer teams. 

Both parties agreed in principle to 
this approach at the Brasilia talks. But 
at Quito in early August they opted for 
a more gradual integration process 
linked to diplomatic progress but not 
to a drawdown of MOMEP. As stipu- 
lated in the draft, the liaison officers 
wanted an effective veto on withdraw- 
ing guarantor observers from the mis- 
sion. While the United States favored 
more rapid integration, the consensus 
was that changes in the wording would 
not be accepted by both parties. All 
concerned recognized the implicit right 
of the guarantors to make decisions 
with regard to the continued commit- 
ment of their observers; as a result, the 
definition of procedures was endorsed 
by the guarantor high functionaries 
and accepted by the governments of 
the two parties on August 22. 

With this success and the stage set 
for integration and negotiations on the 
underlying issue, a situation arose that 
threatened to derail the peace process. 3 
Since the completion of the separation 
of forces in May, a number of cease-fire 
violations had occurred in areas adja- 
cent to, although not part of, the secu- 
rity area/DMZ. Between May 3 and 
September 30, the two parties reported 
over 20 incidents accompanied by 
pleas for MOMEP intervention. Many 
involved mines which resulted in three 
killed and one wounded, and small 
arms fire which escalated to mortar 
and artillery duels. In both cases, each 
party accused the other of deliberately 
provoking the incident and attempting 



this agreement was announced at the 
closing of the Hemispheric Defense 
Ministerial in Williamsburg 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 57 







■jfq forum 



to sabotage the peace process. Refusing 
to endanger observers, and wary of ex- 
ceeding its mandate, MOMEP exhorted 
the parties to cease active patrolling, 
concentrate in border outposts, and re- 
move indirect fire weapons from the 
area. But neither side would comply 
without MOMEP verification. 

The mission adopted a strategy 
similar to that which had produced fa- 
vorable results earlier. An area extend- 
ing 10 kilometers to either side of the 
demarcated border from the DMZ to a 
point east of the confluence of the 



Yaupi and Santiago rivers was desig- 
nated as a supplemental security area 
(see map); inventories of outposts, 
troops, and weapons were demanded 
from the two sides; and a phased with- 
drawal of garrisons and indirect fire 
weapons was designed, leaving a maxi- 
mum of 80 soldiers for each side at the 
designated outposts. MOMEP observers 
verified that troops and weapons had 
arrived at the nearest battalion head- 
quarters (Santiago, Ecuador, and Am- 
pala, Peru). 

These steps, together with in- 
creased helicopter patrols, helped sta- 
bilize the situation. Since March 1996, 



18 officers from Peru and Ecuador have 
been integrated into MOMEP and the 
guarantor observer contingents have 
been reduced to four members each. 
The U.S. support element remains at a 
strength of 60 troops. A long-standing 
policy on border contacts has been 
readopted by both sides, and signifi- 
cant progress has been made on the 
diplomatic front. The January 1996 
meeting of foreign ministers in Lima 
led to a formula for sustained negotia- 
tions on the underlying issue. 

With a minimal investment in re- 
sources by the guarantors of the 1942 
Protocol of Rio de Janeiro, MOMEP can 
claim extraordinary success in manag- 
ing the situation both at the tactical 
level and through participation in 
negotiations to establish the demili- 
tarized zone as well as the structure 
of an extended (and integrated) 
peace observer mission. Substantive 
negotiations on demarcation are the 
next step for guarantor diplomats. 
The hope is that integrating both par- 
ties into the observer mission will ob- 
viate armed encounters and also pro- 
duce a climate of confidence and 
self-reliance in which to negotiate. The 
fear is that without continued partic- 
ipation by guarantor observers in day- 
to-day operations, the mission could 
lose credibility and control as diplo- 
mats deal with the lengthy and difficult 
problem of achieving mutual conces- 
sions to produce a final settlement. JFQ 



NOTES 

1 See William L. Krieg, Ecuadorean-Peru- 
vian Rivalry in the Upper Amazon (Washing- 
ton: Department of State, External Research 
Program, 1986). 

2 This overview is based on a combina- 
tion of SOUTHCOM reports and briefing 
material provided to MOMEP by the liaison 
officers of the two parties. 

3 The sources for events that occurred 
after the author's departure on August 23, 
1995 are SOUTHCOM reports and inter- 
views with both Colonel Steve Fee, U.S. 
contingent commander, and Coronel Jorge 
H. Gomez Pola, senior Argentinean repre- 
sentative to MOMEP. 



11 FEBRUARY 1996 

Z r Peru to su PPort 

SSE move toward * 

3^T 0 ^“ de ^ a * ethe 

5 p ° u ^ 

e P led ge to meet together as nor 

mu, “ 1 !Upp "' a ” d ™ 



Lieut Gen. Mario Candido Diaz 
Chief of the Joint Staff 
ARGENTINA 

Lieut (Jen. Raul Tapia Esdale 
CHlf E ° ftheNati0naiDefens e Staff 



General Benedito Onofre Bezerra Leonel 
BRAZIL A ™ ed FMCeS General Staf f 
General Barry R. McCaffrey 

CINC, U.S. Southern Command 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



58 JFQ / Spring 1996 




A Brazilian 




Strategic Outlook 

By LUIZ PAULO MACEDO CARVALHO 



T he end of this millennium 
will go down as the era that 
witnessed the collapse of the 
Berlin Wall, the demise of 
the Soviet empire, and the termination 
of the Cold War, a period characterized 
by the repudiation of totalitarianism, 
the resurgence of democracy and na- 
tionalism, the awakening of the Pa- 
cific, and the geopolitics of economic 
blocks. Ruptures and changes have re- 
sulted from the clash of fragmentation 
and globalism. The Old World became 
a battlefield with the breakup of the 
former Yugoslavia, while Czechs peace- 
fully separated from Slovaks. The esca- 
lation of ethno-nationalist violence, 



compounded by religious fundamen- 
talism and international terrorism, has 
no respect for borders. Narcoterrorism, 
underscoring the impact of organized 
crime on urban centers afflicted by mi- 
gration, has emerged as a new social 
threat. The predominance of market 
economies and strengthening of trad- 
ing blocks are cause to rethink the tra- 
ditional concept of sovereignty. 

Decline in the strategic impor- 
tance of the nations of Latin America 
in the face of geopolitical quirks, ex- 
cept for the Caribbean, has turned 
them into outcasts. This has forced 
them to compete, without much hope, 
for a place among the megablocks with 
transnational eco- 
nomic power. Thus, 
the heterogeneous 
freight train of Latin 



America, lacking national reserves and 
foreign investment, lies motionless in 
the station of underdevelopment 
awaiting a mighty locomotive to pull it 
into the terminal of modernization. In 
the meantime, Latin America imports 
capital goods and technology and is an 
exporter of raw materials and cheap 
manufactured goods. It is also an at- 
tractive market. In Central and South 
America, a range of border disputes, 
the Malvinas, and multilateral interests 
in Antarctica contribute to political in- 
stability. In the Caribbean, the agoniz- 
ing swan song of the Castro regime 
can already be heard. 

The decline or collapse of nation- 
states can be anticipated with the for- 
mation of regional, continental, and 
extra-continental blocks or conglomer- 
ates. Paradoxically, there is a strength- 
ening of nation-states in search of na- 
tional identity as they witness the 
inability and lack of resources on the 
part of international organizations to 
resolve their disputes. This suggests 
that nation-states are too large to settle 
small controversies, yet too small to 
settle large ones. 

The new international order still 
lacks clear definition, yet one finds no 
shortage of friction or threats to secu- 
rity. There is an assumption that no so- 
lutions exist without U.S. support, at 
least in the short term, although it ap- 
pears that reason may prevail over 
might as we enter a new century. 

A Cold Peace 

Alternating periods of war and 
peace have been a feature of world his- 
tory. Each generation perceives war as 
a solution to continuing conflicts, 
many fueled by self interest or a desire 
to reign over other men. The 20 th cen- 
tury has been scourged by professional 
politicians who have failed to use rea- 
son to reduce tensions that caused two 
world wars. Since the fall of Rome, 75 
percent of the deaths attributed to war 
have occurred in this century. 

The end of the Cold War created a 
wave of euphoria based on the suppo- 
sition that the threat of a nuclear holo- 
caust was finally averted, leaving 



Coronel Luiz Paulo Macedo Carvalho, Brazilian Army, is 
director of the Brazilian Geography and Military History 
Institute and the Brazilian Army Library. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 59 



■jfq forum 




mainly limited re- Augusta/Sikorsky 
gional or local helicopter, 
armed conflicts. 

But the reality of the ensuing years has 
been a series of unexpected events: the 
Persian Gulf War, massacres in Soma- 
lia, armed conflict in Sudan, renewed 
fighting in Angola and Mozambique, 
the return of guerrillas in Namibia, 
ethnic disorders in South Africa, cease- 
fire violations in the eastern Sahara, 
separatism in Assam, Punjab, Kashmir, 
and Timor, chronic strife in Cambodia, 
continued carnage in Lebanon, civil 
war in Afghanistan, brutality in 
Bosnia, Russian genocide in Chechnya, 
further instability in El Salvador and 
Nicaragua, crisis in Haiti, border dis- 
putes between Ecuador and Peru as 
well as Colombia and Venezuela, 
clashes between Armenians and Azer- 
baijanis and Georgians, Abkhaz and 
Ossetes, Hutus and Tutsis, Kurds and 
Turks, Tamils and Sinhalese, and Is- 
raelis and Palestinians, and others. The 
world faces a torrent of conflicts even 
if they are legacies of the past. 

The Gulf War did not eliminate 
the threat of conflict in an important 
strategic area, given the national inter- 
ests of the "group of seven" (G-7) — 
Canada, France, Germany, Great 
Britain, Italy, Japan, and United States. 
Moreover, the international commu- 
nity has responded differently to each 
threat that has emerged, showing no 
consistent strategy for peace after the 
Cold War. One reason is that present 
conflicts differ from those for which 
their forces were traditionally pre- 
pared. Another is that the world is un- 
dergoing a great transformation, and 
the international community has yet 
to redefine its role, thus generating 
mistrust among weak and less devel- 
oped countries. 

Today's insecurities are worsened 
by a range of uncertainties virtually 
unknown to previous generations. Nu- 
merous contemporary internal con- 
flicts are a legacy of colonialism since 
the borders of half of the U.N. mem- 
bers were arbitrarily imposed by the 
colonial powers. Thus, it should come 
as no surprise that separatist and irre- 
dentist movements have surfaced. 



In reality, the post Cold War era 
will be known by a specter of violent 
disaggregation of states that may lead 
to war. Unless the international com- 
munity identifies and courageously 
faces the roots of conflicts resulting 
from noncompliance of individual 
human rights, disrespect towards racial 
identities, and sovereignty of national 

the new world order assumes 
continuation of global military 
apartheid — disarmament of 
weak states in favor of the G-7 

states, world violence as a whole will 
not diminish, and humanity will fail 
to correct its dangerous course. 

Much has been said about disar- 
mament, and progress has admittedly 
been made; however, development and 
production of modern weapon systems 
continues, especially in the industrial- 
ized northern hemisphere. Billions of 
dollars are still being spent in the sale 
of weapons from the First to the Third 
World. Other than the 1993 Chemical 
Weapons Convention specifying the 
destruction of production facilities, no 
existing treaty calls for either disman- 
tling or converting weapons plants. 
The new world order assumes continu- 
ation of global military apartheid — 



that is, disarmament and reduction of 
the armed forces of weak states in 
favor of the G-7 nations which, under 
the pretense of U.N. sponsorship, 
would assure collective security. This 
could pose serious threats to the con- 
cept of national sovereignty. 

Despite stabilization or reduction 
of nuclear arsenals, existing stockpiles 
still have enough power to annihi- 
late all life on the planet. Moreover, 
no nuclear powers promise total 
elimination of atomic arsenals; yet 
they assume the right to prevent 
others from mastering the complete 
cycle of atom disintegration even 
for peaceful ends, since possessing 
nuclear weapons confers political and 
military status in diplomatic negotia- 
tions. Moreover, conventional 
weapons stockpiles are growing and 
proliferating which promotes instabil- 
ity. Europe is the most militarized re- 
gion, in contrast to the Third World 
where unresolved conflicts fuel arms 
races in which 60 percent of the hard- 
ware comes from G-7 countries, a prac- 
tice inconsistent with their advertised 
disarmament policies. 

The image of blue helmets as 
global policemen is questionable. The 
General Assembly, which is dominated 
by many new and insignificant coun- 
tries, has its decisions contested by the 



60 JFQ / Spring 1996 



Eduardo Pesce 





Carvalho 



great powers; likewise, the veto power 
of larger countries on the Security 
Council raises suspicion among 
smaller states. Moreover, lack of a per- 
manent budget for peace operations, 
combined with growing debt and late 
contributions by numerous member 
states, exacerbates crises. Complicating 
matters is article 2 of the Friendly Na- 
tions Charter, which does not confer 
the authority to intervene in matters 
that essentially fall under the internal 
jurisdiction of a state. It is becoming 



increasingly difficult to distinguish be- 
tween internal and international con- 
flicts and predict their repercussions. 
The concept of self-determination col- 
lides with that of humanitarian action. 

The interpretation of interna- 
tional law, even in the face of serious 
human rights violations, does not jus- 
tify foreign intervention in internal 
matters. Thus, even though it has 
never been stated absolutely, sover- 
eignty becomes more important in 
terms of the rights and duties of states. 
Hence, it is no surprise that some al- 
leged foreign intervention in weak 
states is not universally accepted. In 
the future, nations will be hard-pressed 
to justify such practices. 

Finally, peacekeeping requires 
above all that peace be achieved, since 
powerful states only resolve questions 
pertaining to their interests, confirm- 
ing La Fontaine's adage that the best 
reason is always that of the strongest. 
The days of amateurism are gone. Both 
diplomats and politicians have not 
been realists. The credibility of the 
United Nations will be compromised if 
conflicts are resolved for the economic 
and political interests of world powers 
or multinational corporations, to the 
detriment of universal principles of re- 
spect for human dignity. Such suspi- 
cions are based on the decisions taken 
by the Security Council, an organiza- 
tion that ignores human rights viola- 
tions when convenient or uses them to 
justify interventions. 



It is illusory to expect the United 
Nations to prevent every limited con- 
flict from assuming violent and large- 
scale proportions. Deterrence alone, 
through effective employment of a 
powerful force when necessary, will 
guarantee the right of mankind to live 
in peace and liberty. 

Future War 

After both world wars, new interna- 
tional orders appeared with the creation 
of the League of Nations in Geneva 
(1919) and the United 
Nations in San Francisco 
(1945). The victors be- 
came keepers of the 
peace based on a balance 
of power. With the end of the Cold War, 
the United States emerged as the sole su- 
perpower, although it has shared this 
role with other G-7 members. 

Accordingly, great wars will only 
be fought by more developed states. In 
other words, as we reach the end of 
the millennium, only the United States 
has the ability to fight and sustain a 
total nuclear war, a fact that in itself 
makes such an occurrence unlikely. 
Otherwise, full-scale conflicts between 
Third World countries would be 
avoided or resolved by U.S. predomi- 
nance or G-7 global power, using the 
United Nations as a tool, or by interna- 
tional economic sanctions. If diplo- 
matic negotiations or economic pres- 
sures fail, then a U.N.-sponsored force 
would be employed with the consent 
of the Security Council. However, such 
coveted universal peace remains far 
from a reality. 

Scientific and technological break- 
throughs in the coming decades will 
produce significant material develop- 
ments which will change the nature of 
warfare, with profound implications 
for the structure and the employment 
of armed forces. 

■ State-of-the-art, high precision con- 
ventional weapons must replace nuclear 
weapons of similar destructive power, with- 
out their malignant and devastating conse- 
quences. 

■ The line distinguishing nuclear and 
conventional weapons will disappear. 

■ Automated, computerized, high pre- 
cision weapon systems will be available, car- 
rying more powerful explosives and highly 
penetrating munitions and possessing elec- 
tronic components and target acquisition 



international law does not justify 
foreign intervention in internal matters 



and targeting equipment capable of process- 
ing data at incredible speeds. 

■ Microelectronics will allow the fur- 
ther development of invisible weapons of 
extreme automatic precision. The main lim- 
iting factor will be the high cost. 

■ The art of war will undergo pro- 
found changes. 

■ Vertical coordination will gain 
greater importance: ground forces, tradi- 
tionally supported by aircraft, will trade 
roles and support air operations. Conse- 
quently, the role of naval air forces will be 
reconsidered. 

■ There will be no need to find and 
totally destroy enemy combat, political, 
and economic power — or to break enemy 
will by employing massive ground forces 
and occupying its territory. 

■ Precision attacks against previously 
selected targets, using stand-off strategic 
weaponry, will reduce casualties and collat- 
eral damage but lead to disintegration of an 
enemy political system because of severe 
damage to industrial and power facilities, 
communication centers, transportation net- 
works, and populations. Such weapons will 
not distinguish civilians from soldiers. 

■ Electronic warfare and intelligence 
will become especially important. 

■ Operations will be considerably 
shortened. 

■ Command, control, and communi- 
cations (C 3 ) will be extremely valuable. 

■ Air defenses will have to be modern- 
ized to counter invisible high precision 
weapon systems, undetected even by radar 
under adverse weather and visibility condi- 
tions. 

■ The computer will dominate the 
battlefield; accordingly, victory will lean to- 
ward the side with effective information 
systems, operated by highly qualified spe- 
cialists in data processing, that exceed 
enemy command and control capabilities. 

■ Data automation will eliminate ex- 
cessive manpower and require well-trained 
personnel in relatively smaller numbers. 

■ Aircraft will give way to unmanned 
aerospace vehicles. 

■ Smart weapons will replace conven- 
tional and nuclear ones. However, nuclear 
weapons might be used in desperate situa- 
tions, which will attract new members to 
the atomic club with comparatively primi- 
tive systems and limited stockpiles. 

■ Combined operations will reach 
their apex through increased aerospace and 
naval power. 

■ Space will be a decisive factor. 

Most states cannot stay abreast of 
the scientific and technological devel- 
opments as applied to the art of war 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 61 



■ JFQ FORUM 




which forces them to accept the new 
order imposed by the larger powers. 
Weaker states can only fight limited or 
regional small wars, using conven- 



tional weapons or old nuclear and 
chemical weapons to counter the 
power of the strongest countries. 

For some time, an astonished 
world will witness hostilities among 
emerging nations that risk peace. The 
new international order — in which any 
military institution unable to take part 
in an unrestrained arms race is viewed 
as a national guard or militia depen- 
dent on the great powers under the 
shield of international organizations — 
anxiously awaits a new strategy. 

Armed Forces 

Although the world may be less 
dangerous politically, it is more com- 
plex economically and faces greater 
risks of conflict. Great wars may be 
averted, but fierce economic competi- 
tion warns of dangers arising from a 
widespread loss of control which de- 
generates into armed conflict. Thus, 



despite the contributions of interna- 
tional organizations to peacekeeping, 
there is no justification for converting 
Third World armed forces into militias. 
No outside system can suppress 
all the tension afflicting unjust 
societies that lack the means to 
maintain order and secure their 
place on the world stage. Hungry, 
ignorant, and socially inferior 
combatants cannot resist the on- 
slaught of developed and better 
trained adversaries. Without good 
health and education, no armed force 
will be able to ensure respect and sta- 
bility among states. 

Years ago, Adlai Stevenson stated 
at the United Nations that we do not 
envision a world devoid of conflict. Re- 
gardless of how war evolves in the new 
world order at the dawn of the next 
century, the universal and enduring 
role of armed forces remains constant: 
to deter aggression, defend the home- 
land, and guarantee law and order 
both internally and externally. Thus 
the role of the armed forces must be 
consistent with the goals of society in 
general. Militaries are extensions of the 
societies to which they belong, which 
is why they are national institutions. 
Any disharmony between the armed 
forces and society can hamper stability, 
liberty, and social peace. 



despite international peacekeep- 
ing, there is no justification for 
converting Third World armed 
forces into militias 



To address the appropriate role of 
the armed forces in society, it is neces- 
sary to know how they are institution- 
alized. This requires a knowledge of 
their lawful missions — in other words, 
their constitu- 
Avibras launching tional role and 

Astros II SS-60. goals. Generically 

executable mis- 
sions are permanent in almost all 
armed forces and are only distin- 
guished by the political and ideologi- 
cal connotations imposed on them by 
their legal role. 

The role of the armed forces is a 
function of the regime and the times; 
hence, it varies with political fluctua- 
tions. While in some nations military 
expression is institutionally adapted to 
one party or the personal power of a 
discretionary ruler, in democratic 
states the law normally decrees that 
the armed forces guarantee a regime le- 
gitimized by popular representation. 
Their role therefore changes only 
when a new group assumes power and 
sets a new course. Examples include 
passage of the Tzar's forces to the Sovi- 
ets and their return to the Russian na- 
tion; democratic transformation of 
Nazi and socialist military institutions 
into a reunited Germany; the greatness 
of the military role in the United States 
and Britain; and the tumultuous his- 
tory of many Ibero-American regimes. 

When a people achieve the level 
of nationhood and create the state, 
one of its essential traits is maintaining 
independence and ensuring that na- 
tional will is not subjected to any out- 
side powers. The state also underwrites 
the supremacy of internal order — inter- 
preted as the inherent power of the 
state to impose itself on the other in- 
stitutional powers within its territory. 

In keeping with Brazilian consti- 
tutional tradition, article 142 of the 
current constitution states that the 
armed forces are permanent and regu- 
lar national institutions and destined 
for the defense of the homeland, the 
guarantee of constitutional powers, 
and the maintenance of law and order. 
This role is consistent with the na- 
tion's level of political evolution. But 
maintaining law and order is not 
within the scope of the armed forces in 
some countries. 



62 JFQ / Spring 1996 




Carvalho 




Defense of the homeland means 
integrating and protecting national 
territory and democratic institutions of 
the representative regime, federation, 
and republic from aggression, be it in- 
ternal or external, overt or covert. The 
guarantee of constitutional powers 
specifies providing security to the ex- 
ecutive, legislature, and judiciary so 
they may conduct their legal responsi- 



bilities, independently and harmo- 
niously, free from any type of pressure. 
The guarantee of law and order is sum- 
marized as enforcing respect for estab- 
lished legal norms or those derived 
from them, which puts the armed 
forces in a peculiar position. Even if 
the law did not prescribe such a role, 
society would find it difficult to accept 
the military being impassive in times 
of chaos. It would be illogical and 
utopian for the state to forego the use 
of force in the face of an external or in- 
ternal threat. The old aphorism that 
the armed forces should be a giant 
mute only finds acceptance among the 
ill-intentioned. The incapability of 
speech is an organic handicap that 
must not become a military attribute. 



The first inviolable commitment 
of the armed forces is defense of the 
nation — its moral and material patri- 
mony, territorial integrity, political- 
economic independence, and institu- 
tions. Second, the military is required 
for the collective defense of the Ameri- 
can continents against aggression. 
Hemispheric stability resides in the 
preservation of peace from north to 
south. Finally, the armed 
forces are the instrument 
for meeting the interna- 
tional commitment to 
maintain world peace 
among nations. These three objectives 
summarize the basic missions of Brazil- 
ian military institutions. 

Without hampering missions estab- 
lished by constitutional decree, the 
armed forces carry out activities of mili- 
tary interest in scientific-technological, 
economic, and social areas where there 
is a lack of participation from the private 
or governmental sectors. They also sup- 
port civil defense in disaster relief, emer- 
gencies, or humanitarian assistance. 

During a seminar on "Army Edu- 
cation Policy for the Year 2000" held 
under the auspices of the Brazilian 
army staff and including military per- 
sonnel and civilians from the First 
World, there was unanimous consent 
that the generic roles of armed forces 
consist of defending the homeland, 
participating in multinational forces to 



support collective security, and provid- 
ing relief assistance in catastrophies 
and emergencies. It 
Brazilian destroyer has become clear 

CTParaiba. that in all countries 

the military forms 
the basic element of coercive organiza- 
tion that serves the law. 

Resting on the shoulders of the 
armed forces — on their structural effi- 
ciency, training, and respectability — is 
social peace in the international arena 
and national prestige in the common- 
wealth of nations. Hence, they are ma- 
terial safeguards of both the existence 
of a sovereign state and the achieve- 
ment of its goals. It is on their power 
that the status and self-determination 
of the state rely in national and in- 
ternational crises. Thus, we cannot ac- 
cept the notion of entrusting the de- 
fense of the state to alliances or third 
parties, nor rely on mercurial decisions 
by international organizations to as- 
sure national integrity. 

Regardless of whether the world 
feels less threatened in the aftermath 
of the Cold War, the military is less dis- 
pensable than ever in the new world 
order. It is a permanent national insti- 
tution whose roles — originating in the 
constitution — remain universal and 
largely unchanged and cannot be rele- 
gated to militias, other states, or in- 
ternational organizations. Were this 
not so, the principles of sovereignty 
and self-determination, the foundation 
of international law, the declaration of 
human rights and duties, and the U.N. 
charter would be compromised. JPQ 



An extended version of this article was pub- 
lished in the Portuguese-language edition of 
Military Review (vol. 75, 3 rd quarter 1995, 
pp. 35-44) under the title of "O Papel das 
Formas Armadas no Seculo XXI." JFQ is grate- 
ful to Coronel Alvaro de Souza Pinheiro, 
Brazilian Liaison Officer, U.S. Army Combined 
Arms Center, for providing this English trans- 
lation. 



the first inviolable commitment of the 
armed forces is defense of the nation 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 



63 




■ JFQ FORUM 




Teniente General Martin Antonio Balza is chief of staff of 
the Argentine army. 



I n 1990 Argentina began a transfor- 
mation of the land component of 
its armed forces based on assess- 
ments of current and future de- 
fense needs, national objectives, eco- 
nomic conditions, and a changing 
international situation. This historical 
challenge was met by the Argentine 
army which implemented actions to 
achieve that end. The army is a disci- 
plined and cohesive institution that 
performs its mission with composure, 
perseverance, motivation, devotion to 
duty, and faith in a future which it 
deems bright. It has also adapted to 
structural changes undertaken by the 
nation and shared 
155mm Citer gun. in the sacrifices 

which these diffi- 
cult reforms have imposed on the Ar- 
gentine people. This has led to the first 
changes in force structure since a reor- 
ganization in 1964. Both geopolitical 
developments and extraordinary tech- 
nological advances during the 1980s 
precluded the army from responding 
to demands posed by this national 
challenge. 

The Malvinas War clearly indi- 
cated the failure of our doctrinal and 
operational framework. Budget policies 
and cost reductions embraced by the 
Argentine government, like other 
countries, compounded structural 
problems. To meet this reality, studies 
were required to guide development of 
the army. Thus, a long-range goal was 
implemented by a comprehensive and 
ambitious project, "The Military 
Ground Component of the Future," 
which spanned over twenty years 
(until 2010). That project, with subse- 
quent revisions and adaptations, has 
become synonymous with the army's 
future. From the start the effort has 
been focused in a coherent and coordi- 
nated manner. Its most distinctive 
characteristic is that it is not static. On 
the contrary, it is flexible enough to as- 
similate changes deemed necessary by 
the defense establishment while also 
ensuring room for evolution. 

Notwithstanding the lack of addi- 
tional funding to embark on this evo- 
lutionary process, by the end of 1991 



64 JFQ / Spring 1996 




B a I z a 



the required actions had been taken 
and continue to be systematically im- 
plemented. The concept behind re- 
structuring the army was a process of 
transformation which implicitly had 
to start with cultural modernization. 
Our actions had to lead to profound 
changes in the corporate culture of the 
army including: 

■ respect for and subordination to the 
constitution and the law 

■ a positive attitude toward commu- 
nity service to integrate the army into society 

■ a call to excellence 

■ command based on shared objectives 

■ encouragement of higher levels of 
responsibility participation, and initiative 
among subordinate levels of command 

■ assignments based on competence 

■ promotions based on merit 

■ modification of seniority through- 
out a military career 

■ modernization of the army's educa- 
tional system 

■ replacement of mandatory military 
service with a voluntary army. 

Qualitative changes in the educa- 
tion provided to personnel is funda- 
mental to the process of transforming 



any organization. In this sense educa- 
tional requirements were raised in an 
effort to gradually adjust the profes- 
sional skills required for the 21 st cen- 
tury during the course of training and 
development. With that in mind the 
curricula at institutions such as the 
military academy now enable gradu- 
ates to earn university degrees. Non- 
commissioned officers graduate with 
high school diplomas. This transfor- 
mation also includes establishment of 
military institutes of higher education 
for civilian personnel, which has led to 
a paradoxical situation at our military 
university where the majority of the 
students are civilians. 

Likewise, the implementation of 
a voluntary army was a historical 
milestone for Argentina and our great- 
est challenge in the 1990s. The idea 
was to address the formation of the 




soldier of the future, defense needs, 
resource availability, and demands 
posed by society. Its adoption led to 
profound changes, 
both cultural and 
structural, ranging 
from education and 
training volunteers to 
the operation of units, 
equipment, personnel 
practices, legal developments, etc. 

We should underscore that the 
army implemented this particular 
recruitment system without any prior 
experience or a transition period — an 



Argentine peacekeeper, unprecedented sit- 
Croatia - uation among na- 

tions which have 
introduced a volunteer force. The pos- 
sibility for individuals to voluntarily 
choose to join the army as an officer or 
noncommissioned officer is an innova- 
tive and invaluable recruitment alter- 
native not previously employed in Ar- 
gentina. Another remarkable change is 
the fact the army decided to offer 
women the same recruitment opportu- 
nities as men, opening a series of posi- 
tions which will be gradually ex- 
panded as the system is consolidated. 

At the same time the Argentine 
army has maintained and continues to 
stress the importance of ethical values 
that are fundamental to the military 
| profession. Discipline, honesty, devo- 
$ tion to duty, loyalty, obedience, self- 
| sacrifice, courage, and individual ex- 
° ample have been emphasized in the 
past and will continue to be objectives 
for developing the Argentine soldier. 

Defense is a function of state that 
can only be entrusted to the military for 
implementation. Our primary mission 
is and will continue to be the defense of 
vital national interests, regardless of the 
existence of internal or external threats. 
The challenge for the future is to iden- 
tify threats that may arise in the in- 
ternational order. In this new world 
order our traditional mission remains 
valid. It essentially consists of having a 
credible deterrent. However, new dan- 
gers have resulted in new subsidiary 

Torpedo boat Indomita 
at Ushuaia. 




implementation of a voluntary army was 
a historical milestone and our greatest 
challenge in the 1990s 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 65 



Robert L. Scheina 




■ JFQ FORUM 




Super Etendard, 
Espora Naval Air Base. 




roles that armies — as the institutions 
with the greatest aptitude — have as- 
sumed. 

The Argentine army has con- 
ducted peacekeeping operations 
among various other missions in an ef- 
fort to help maintain international 
order and balance in compliance with 
resolutions of the U.N. Security Coun- 
cil. Our military has thereby gained 
national and international recognition 
for its professionalism, devotion to 
duty, and discipline evidenced while 
participating in multinational peace- 
keeping forces. This motivation has en- 
abled us to overcome other difficulties 
and strengthen our commitment to 
world peace, in keeping with the ob- 
jectives of Argentine foreign policy. 



Argentine and Spanish 
observers monitoring 

. . , Cuban withdrawal 

This would fromAngola . 

not have been 

achieved without 

the active, intelligent, and selfless par- 
ticipation of our servicemen and 
women who, in turn, are able to count 
on the understanding and support of 
Argentine society. The respect of the 
army for republican institutions and 
constitutional power has deep roots, 
which is one of the most important 
achievements of the modernization 
process. 

Additionally we have been able to 
overcome barriers that isolated us from 
the community. Society as a whole 
now has the political will to attain 
peace and well-being. This has been 
possible through mutual understand- 



ing and the establishment of civil-mili- 
tary relations which are devoid of prej- 
udice and misconceptions. The first 
step was to abandon our apocalyptic 
vision and arrogance and begin accept- 
ing the right of dissent and respecting 
the will of the people. We have been 
doing that for several years to leave the 
past behind and to build the Argentina 
of the future — a nation that has found 
maturity in pain, and one that some- 
day will come together in a fraternal 
embrace. 

The Argentine army will meet and 
exceed all these expectations. It is pre- 
pared to fulfill its commitment while 
upholding the traditions and ethical 
values that are fundamental to the mil- 
itary profession. Our human as well as 
spiritual heritage, solid and virtuous, is 
consistent with the truth and with the 
values, interests, and objectives of Ar- 
gentine society. JFQ 



66 JFQ / Spring 1996 



Robert L. Scheina 




Security and Democracy 
in the 
Region 




By LUIGI R. EINAUDI 



Argentine, Barbadian, 
and U.S. police 
monitors in Haiti. 



egional dynamics currently 
facilitate military support for 
democracy and peaceful con- 
i flict resolution in the West- 
ern Hemisphere. Yet although condi- 
tions have greatly improved, continued 
success will require both civilian and 
military leadership. With Canada, Mex- 
ico, and the United States in the North 
American Free Trade Agreement 
(NAFTA), the Anglophone Caribbean 
still as solidly democratic as ever, and 
democratization in South America 
complementing the resolution of in- 




Ambassador Luigi R. Einaudi is a senior policy advisor at 
the Department of State and served as U.S. permanent 
representative to the Organization of American States. 



ternationalized conflicts in Central 
America, the 1994 Miami summit credi- 
bly set the integration of the entire 
hemisphere as a common goal. 

Change toward a more harmo- 
nious regional order is broadly evident. 
In sharp contrast to strategic rivalries in 
other parts of the world, Argentina and 
Brazil ended their nuclear competition 
and accepted international safeguards. 
With Chile, they banned chemical and 
biological weapons. In another sphere, 
Argentina, Bolivia, Colombia, Mexico, 
Peru, and Venezuela followed Chile in 
dismantling centralized economies. 

And giant federal 
Brazil is adapting 
well to new demo- 
cratic and produc- 
tive forces. Growth 



rates in several Latin American coun- 
tries have for some years been higher 
than in the United States and Canada. 
If this trend continues, the glaring gaps 
in the quality of life between North 
and South America could narrow in the 
future. 

But the most impressive trend is 
political convergence. Since the early 
1980s, democratic systems have with- 
stood leadership changes, severe 
austerity, and major adjustments. 
Democracy and economic moderniza- 
tion are proving compatible and are 
contributing to a reborn 
awareness of the value of 
freedom. But there is no 
guarantee that new opportu- 
nities for regional coopera- 
tion will be fully developed. 
Already there are reactions 
against the reformist opti- 
mism that opened the 
1990s. Yet the potential for a 
new era of hemispheric 
prosperity and good neigh- 
borhood is real. 

Security Concerns 

Extracontinental threats 
1 have lost significance, but 
| travail in Haiti and looming 
instability in Cuba make 
clear that local problems re- 
main. More generally, the ills of 
poverty, misgovernment, terrorism, 
drug traffic, and mass migration can 
overwhelm the most settled bound- 
aries, entrenched relationships, and 
precise legal guarantees. 

A southward flow of automatic 
weapons through Miami has replaced 
Cuban-trained guerrillas as threats to 
local authorities. Criminal and terrorist 
groups hostile to organized societies 
possess levels of technology and fire- 
power that contrast starkly with the 
historically unarmed governments of 
the Commonwealth Caribbean and 
even the capabilities of some Latin 
American nations. From Chiapas down 
the Central American isthmus and 
along the continent's Andean spine, 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 67 




■ JFQ FORUM 



explosive mixes of race, poverty, politi- 
cal violence, and institutional failure 
cause more casualties than the head- 
line-grabbing calamities of earthquakes 
and hurricanes combined. 

Democratic traditions largely en- 
abled the Commonwealth Caribbean to 
escape totalitarian temptations even in 
the 1960s and 1970s. But articulated in- 
terests and favorable changes do not 
guarantee social stability. Exacerbated 
by economic dislocations and modern 



communications, old injustices and so- 
cial problems can challenge the respon- 
siveness of national elites and interna- 
tional cooperation. And unattained 
development and missed opportunities 
can expose and magnify the faultlines 
of otherwise forgotten resentments 
against neighbors. 

Our hemisphere cannot be iso- 
lated from the broader world. The end 
of the Cold War has challenged global 
order on a scale comparable to the end 
of the world wars. The response to the 
disintegration of the Soviet empire re- 
mains unclear. Will we overcome cen- 
trifugal nationalisms as happened after 
World War II or indulge them as oc- 
curred following World War I? More- 
over, will we find workable responses 
to deforestation, population overflow, 
and global warming? 

Not only are such issues taxing in 
themselves, however; we are barely 
able to discuss them for lack of com- 
mon reference points. Politics, like na- 
ture, abhors vacuums, so this is one in 
name only; but it is filled with far 
more particularisms and localisms 
than the grand strategists have been 
accustomed to accommodating, which 
may actually be part of the problem. 

Regionalism 

For all its shrinkage the planet is 
big and complicated. The United Na- 
tions can't do it all, nor can the United 
States. And most other countries have 
their hands full with domestic con- 
cerns. A compromise between the ab- 
straction of globalism and weakness of 
unilateralism already exists. It is called 
"neighborhood" and has the attributes 



of proximity, language, culture, shared 
problems, and history. That neighbors 
can solve some problems best is being 
demonstrated from NAFTA to the Eu- 
ropean Union, from the Southern 
Cone Common Market (MERCOSUR) 
to the Association of Southeast Asian 
Nations and the Organization of 
African Unity. 

Yet an acceptance of regionalism 
comes only grudgingly. Globalists see 
it as second best or as indicative of fail- 
ure, nationalists as another 
threat to national identity, 
and liberal economists as a 
protectionist "circling the 
wagons." In today's uncer- 
tain conditions, however, regionalism 
can be a building block to work out 
principles and relationships for 
broader global cooperation. 

Historically the United States saw 
itself solidly anchored in the Americas 
from the Monroe Doctrine to the 
Good Neighbor policy. But World War 
II ended the "America First" debate, 
and the United States has had world- 
wide commitments ever since. This 
global outlook was reinforced during 
the Cold War. With the dissolution of 
the Soviet empire, the United States 
became the only genuinely global 
power. It is the only country that sees 
itself as having a role in every region — 
in Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and 
Africa as well as throughout the West- 
ern Hemisphere. 

From this perspective, NAFTA may 
be a first step toward re-anchoring the 
United States in the region. Certainly 
Washington has not moved so directly 
to bolster its position in its immediate 
neighborhood since the days of 
Franklin D. Roosevelt and the Good 
Neighbor policy. However, NAFTA can- 
not be a mask for a Fortress Americas 
policy. Canada and the ABC states (Ar- 
gentina, Brazil, and Chile) are main- 
stays of the General Agreement on Tar- 
iffs and Trade (GATT) and peace 
operations. Future success "beyond 
NAFTA" will be neither exclusionary 
nor isolationist, but rather GATT-com- 
patible in economics, democratic in 
politics, and universalist in spirit. 



old injustices and social problems can 
challenge international cooperation 



Cooperation 

With the entry of Canada in 1990 
and of Belize and Guyana in 1991, the 
Organization of American States (OAS) 
became for the Western Hemisphere 
what the United Nations represents for 
the world: a body whose membership 
includes its entire potential universe. 
(The only obvious exception, Cuba, is 
still formally a member and many look 
forward to the day when a democratic 
Cuba will reoccupy the seat it was sus- 
pended from in 1962.) More impor- 
tantly (unlike the U.N. charter which 
does not invoke the word "democ- 
racy"), the OAS charter commits all its 
members to representative democracy. 
Acceptance of the principle of nonin- 
tervention by President Roosevelt in 
the 1930s gave meaning to the sover- 
eign equality of states, thus helping to 
lay the cornerstone of the modern 
inter-American system. For years, how- 
ever, OAS wallowed in internal contra- 
dictions, cheap rhetoric by dictators, 
and Cold War distortions which com- 
bined to sap its potential and earn 
public disdain. 

Conditions changed as this 
decade began. In 1991 the annual OAS 
general assembly was hosted in Santi- 
ago by a Chilean government eager to 
draw attention to its transition from 
military to civilian rule. In 1973, the 
coup by General Pinochet against the 
elected government was not even com- 
mented on by OAS, many of whose 
members were under military rule. All 
34 delegations in Santiago represented 
democratic governments. The result 
was revolutionary: unanimous adop- 
tion of resolution 1080 calling for au- 
tomatic consideration of any interrup- 
tion of democratic processes in a 
member state. Over the next two years, 
this OAS procedure was applied in the 
case of Haiti to withhold recognition 
of the regime issuing from a military 
coup, and also in Peru and Guatemala 
to oppose unconstitutional seizures of 
power by civilian presidents. 

Since 1990 the organization has 
been in the forefront of efforts to de- 
fine the legal grounds for international 
cooperation in support of democracy. 
OAS missions have disarmed insur- 
gents in Nicaragua and Suriname while 
protecting human rights. Moreover, 
observers supported elections in 



68 JFQ / Spring 1996 



E i n a u d i 




Nicaragua, Paraguay, Peru, El Salvador, 
Haiti, Venezuela, and Guatemala. Im- 
plementing the Miami summit will 
rely to an extent on the success of OAS 
as a coordinator and a sounding board. 

Sovereignty 

The world is marked by truly 
transnational forces, some with ap- 
palling destructive power. Added to the 
evils of dictatorship and protectionism 
are pollution, mass distribution of 



drugs with their antisocial effects, and 
population growth that often over- 
whelms existing social arrangements. 
At the same time, electronic communi- 
cation has created a new and transcen- 
dent universe. 

The search for solutions must re- 
spect what is invisible from space and 
increasingly ignored on earth: the in- 
ternational boundary distinguishing 
one sovereignty from another. Al- 
though very much under challenge by 
impending waves of anarchy, with en- 
tire areas beyond the reach of any cen- 
tral government, the nation-state re- 
mains the basic unit of world 
organization. And states need to be or- 
ganized and energized before they can 



cooperate, even to face urgent global 
problems. 

From the standpoint of interna- 
tional cooperation, in fact, democracy 
may be as important among nations as 
within them. In our hemisphere, the 
veto-free OAS structure and accompa- 
nying search for consensus brings a 
notable dose of democracy to relation- 
ships expressed through the organiza- 
tion. A regional approach has two ad- 
vantages: bringing all concerned 
parties together is an efficient form 
of communication, and maintain- 
ing the equality of states by shar- 
ing information and discussion on 
a one-country/one-vote basis re- 
duces the asymmetry of purely bilat- 
eral settings and facilitates coopera- 
tion — even bilateral cooperation. The 
first advantage typifies multilateralism 
and is singularly useful in supplement- 
ing normal communication channels. 
The second has special significance in 
this hemisphere, where bilateral coop- 
eration can be inhibited by the dispro- 
portionate power of the United States. 
Gradual negotiation of common posi- 
tions in a regional setting is thus a way 
to resolve transnational issues without 
sacrificing the rights of sovereignty. 



democracy may be as important 
among nations as within them 



The Military 

Democratization in Latin America 
in the 1970s and 1980s involved tran- 
sitions from military to civilian rule. 
As the backbone of displaced authori- 
tarian regimes, military institutions 
were seen as opponents of democracy 
even among civilian leaders and move- 
ments who owed 
Cubans being their success to sup- 

searched on arrival port from men in 
at Guantanamo. uniform. Such ten- 

sion must be over- 
come and new understandings devel- 
oped if democratic governments in the 
region are to function in the midst of 
social discontent, economic reform, 
and international uncertainty. Build- 
ing institutions and promoting justice 
requires setting boundaries between 
civilian and military authority. Are 
military personnel accused of human 
rights abuses subject to military or civil 
courts? Who makes the decisions on 
counternarcotics policy or spending on 
arms? Should military personnel vote? 

Such questions can be controver- 
sial. Moreover, they are complicated by 
lack of an agreed model of authority. 
Liberal traditions subordinate the mili- 
tary to civilian authority in all matters 
but grant military personnel the politi- 
cal rights of citizenship. Corporatist tra- 
ditions emphasize military autonomy 
in spheres of military competence, 
hence limiting or denying civilian au- 
thority in military affairs, but refuse po- 
litical rights to military personnel. 

Well into this century, Latin 
American constitutions regularly gave 
the military a corporatist right, even 
duty, to preside in a nonpartisan man- 
ner to determine when politicians had 
violated their constitutional mandates. 
Those practices, incomprehensible to 
those educated in a liberal tradition, 
have all but vanished from constitu- 
tions written over the last generation. 
But corporatist attitudes remain power- 
ful, nowhere more than among mili- 
tary officers, whose function is to de- 
fend the state from its enemies and 
who likely see freedom as meaningless 
without social order. Officers have all 
too often been caught in cultural po- 
larity with and against advocates of in- 
dividual rights. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 69 




■ JFQ FORUM 




Both civil-military and liberal-cor- 
poratist differences can be reconciled 
over time by habits created by the rule 
of law. But the challenge is mutual. The 
military must realize that democracy is 
not anarchy, that human rights are es- 
sential to their own dignity and honor, 
and that civil authority is the only 
source of legitimacy. Civilians, in turn, 
must accept that the nation is symbol- 
ized by the uniform as well as the flag, 
that unarmed world peace still remains 
a utopian ideal, and that military coop- 
eration is essential to consolidate de- 
mocratic gains and economic reforms. 

Civilian and military leaders must 
deal with the single most pernicious 
and destabilizing element in hemi- 
spheric politics today: impunity. Abuse 
of power and privilege, corruption, 
human rights violations — these evils 
know neither nationality nor civil con- 
dition nor uniform. Impunity from 
punishment — whether the accused are 
civilian or military — greatly destabilizes 
state authority. The path to mutual re- 
spect can only be built when all are 
equal under the law and must obey it. 

The Past 

Democratization in the hemi- 
sphere has strengthened regional politi- 
cal cooperation, but not military rela- 
tionships. Moreover, the end of the 
Cold War has undermined the extra- 
hemispheric threat rationale on which 
regional military cooperation has been 
based for more than half a century, first 
against the Axis, then the Soviet bloc. 



The 1982 Falklands/Malvinas War 
highlighted fundamental differences in 
perceptions and military alliances. In 
Latin America (as distinct from Canada 
and the Caribbean), association with 
the United Kingdom made the United 
States almost as much a loser as Ar- 
gentina, some of whose leaders had 
acted believing the United States 
would understand their cause. The Rio 
Treaty, then already under ideological 
attack, appeared scrapped by U.S. loy- 
alty to NATO. 

In Latin America as a whole, the 
abandonment of Cold War rationales 
turned the clock back to historic na- 
tional rivalries, arms transfers, long- 
standing boundary disputes, and mu- 
tual distaste derived from writing one's 
history as an anti-history of neighbors. 
In Central and South America, these 
external issues were compounded by 
uncertainties over civil-military rela- 
tions, mechanisms of command and 
control, or internal distribution of po- 
lice and intelligence functions. 

There is also a panoply of problems 
associated with the United States. The 
disproportion of power between the 
United States and its neighbors, turned 
into fear by the historic use of that 
power to intervene militarily, has 
blocked clear subordination of the mili- 
tary instrument — the Inter-American 
Defense Board (IADB) — to the political 
body (OAS). The reasoning is that, if the 
latter is authorized a military arm, the 



United States (with its disproportionate 
power and the votes it will control) can 
justify military intervention in Latin 
America or the Caribbean under in- 
ternational law. One extreme formula- 
tion of this anxiety 
Raiding drug is that, using democ- 

laboratory in Bolivia. racy an d human 

rights as excuses, the 
United States seeks to use OAS and IADB 
as mechanisms to place armed forces in 
Latin America under its command as en- 
forcers of U.S. intervention. 

Two other hypotheses about U.S. 
policy circulating within Latin Ameri- 
can military circles are that with the 
Cold War over the United States wants 
to abolish all national military forces 
in the region because it considers 
them obstacles to democratic enlarge- 
ment and commercial expansion, and 
that the United States seeks to coopt 
Latin American militaries as police to 
fight the drug war outside its borders. 
There are two major flaws in these 
conspiratorial depictions of U.S. policy. 
The first is that these are "big lies," in- 
corporating enough from authentic 
concerns emanating from Washington 
to give them an air of plausibility. The 
second is that such misunderstandings 
in the past prevented effective regional 
cooperation that could have forestalled 
the use of force. 

In Panama OAS took on Noriega 
without success for several months in 
1989 before events led to U.S. action. 
In Haiti OAS and IADB had an oppor- 
tunity to provide military training dur- 
ing 1991-92 under conditions that 
might have contributed to a political 
solution. But anti-military and anti-in- 
terventionist attitudes precluded OAS 
from acting. When the United States 
initiated another effort a year later, 
this time under the United Nations, 
Haitian paramilitary goon squads had 
been reinforced and conditions had 
polarized and deteriorated even fur- 
ther. The opportunity to reverse the 
coup and reduce the suffering of the 
Haitian people had been lost. 

With the Rio Treaty in disuse and 
no provisions in the OAS charter for 
the use of force, armed peacekeeping 
activities will be left either to the 
United Nations or to unilateral action 



70 JFQ / Spring 1996 




E i n a u d i 




by the United States. Neither is a satis- 
factory embodiment of collective re- 
gional will. 

Mission Expansion 

The end of the Cold War prompted 
a search for new military missions and 
rationales — even as downsizing was un- 
derway. One of the most important is 
peacekeeping, a mission spurred by the 
Gulf War reminder that danger still 
abounds despite the "new world order." 
While Canada has a peacekeeping tradi- 
tion, out-of-area activities by Latin Amer- 
ican militaries have been infrequent. 
Brazil and Mexico fought in World War II 
and Colombia took part in Korea. Such 
contributions are multiplying as coun- 
tries of the region participate in peace op- 
erations — Argentina in Croatia, Cyprus, 
Mozambique, and the Persian Gulf; 
Brazil in Angola, Mozambique, and for- 
mer Yugoslav republics, as well as on the 
Rwanda-Uganda border; Chile in Cam- 
bodia, Kashmir, and Kuwait; and 
Umguay in Cambodia, Mozambique, the 
Persian Gulf, and the Sinai. 



Within the hemisphere, Brazil 
contributed officers to the OAS mis- 
sion in Suriname and the U.N. effort in 
El Salvador, Venezuelans served with 
the United Nations in Nicaragua, and 
an OAS-authorized, IADB-planned de- 
mining effort in Nicaragua was 



manned by Argentina, Brazil, Chile, 
Colombia, Paraguay, Peru, and Uru- 
guay. Argentina, Canada, Caribbean 
Community and Common Market 
(CARICOM) states, Guatemala, Hon- 
duras, and Suriname participated in 
Haiti in an effort which drew less mili- 
tary than political support from the 
hemisphere. 

These efforts should not be mis- 
taken for a new equilibrium. Interna- 
tional organizations are by definition 
mendicants, and it is hard to think of a 
faster way to financially bankrupt 



them than to ask them to undertake 
missions. Even more importantly, par- 
ticipation in peacekeeping operations 
will not replace the process of redefin- 
ing the role of the military. Moreover, 
we should not have needed Somalia to 
remind us to greet changing missions 
with skepticism. History is 
replete with situations in 
which new missions and 
doctrines can lead to trou- 
ble. Their adoption without 
careful preparation can create political 
instability and bring discredit to mili- 
tary institutions. In the 1960s, coun- 
terinsurgency and civic action mis- 
sions in Latin America contributed to 
displacement of civil authority and ul- 
timately to military coups. In the 
1980s, assigning increased military as- 
sets to the drug war resulted in politi- 
cal controversies but fortunately not in 
coups. As the 1990s progress, redefin- 
ing the role of the military will require 
careful and unprecedented consulta- 
tion with civilian authorities. Most is- 
sues are much more difficult than 



Haiti drew less military than political 
support from the hemisphere 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 71 



The White House 




■jfq forum 



peacekeeping, which, though expen- 
sive, has obvious benefits for military 
modernization and international order. 

Some difficulties are economic in 
form but political in content. What 
materiel acquisitions are necessary in 
an environment of reduced tensions? 
What will be the budgetary balance be- 
tween military and social spending? In 
an era of government downsizing, no 
sector will get all it wants. Other ques- 
tions are quintessential^ political. 
How much downsizing is enough? 
How can civilian demands for trans- 
parency be reconciled with security? 



What happens in rural areas where 
military units are virtually the sole rep- 
resentatives of authority? What hap- 
pens when criminals have more fire- 
power and mobility than police? The 
traditional authoritarian answer is to 
order the military into action. The de- 
mocratic answer is slower but maybe 
more stable in the long run — to bring 
military and civil authorities together 
to decide what to do. 

Finally, there are voices for mili- 
tary intervention against domestic cor- 
ruption, inefficiency, and crime. Such 
calls are typically softened by populist 
appeals and promises; but interference 
by the military in the prevailing legal 
order offers little hope for the disad- 
vantaged. It would be hard to imagine 
a quicker end to the promise NAFTA 
holds for the hemisphere than a return 
to the false solutions of authoritarian- 
ism embodied in even the most appar- 
ently "justified" coup. 

Future Directions 

The border conflict between 
Ecuador and Peru in 1995 brought into 
focus several issues with major impli- 
cations for hemispheric security. Per- 
haps the most crucial have to do with 
military missions and how to organize 
cooperation. 

First, traditional concerns such as 
defending national frontiers remain le- 
gitimate missions for the military. Set- 
tling such disputes is key to stability, 



economic progress, and moderniza- 
tion. But until these conflicts are re- 
solved, governments will have to fac- 
tor territorial concerns into their 
defense plans. Military modernization 
and arms transfers will thus stay on 
the hemispheric agenda for the fore- 
seeable future. Much of the Cold War 
security system was built on U.S. ex- 
cess stocks from World War II and 
Korea which have not been available 
for some time. Moreover, even with 
bargains the cost of weapons from the 
developed world are close to prohibi- 
tive. Worse, minimal acquisitions may 
be perceived as threatening 
by other countries. The pur- 
chase by Ecuador in 1995 of 
four Kfir fighters was 
enough to raise fears of a 
South American arms race. Yet these 
aircraft were one-for-one replacements 
that introduced no new technology. 

A logical approach would be an 
arms transfer regime responsive to the 
twin imperatives of defense and re- 
straint, and respected both regionally 
and internationally. It should provide 
for prior consultation and confidence 
building measures among and within 
countries and be flexible enough to en- 
sure weapons for national defense yet 
restrained enough to preclude destabi- 
lizing and wasteful transfers. For exam- 
ple, restraint on one system could be ac- 
cepted in return for assured supplies of 
another. No transfers would be consum- 
mated without involving both military 
and civilian leaders. Conditions for a 
supply/restraint regime are coming into 
being. Weapons of mass destruction 
have been banned. Constitutionally 
elected democratic governments are 
dominant. But levels of civil-military 
communication required to define a 
regime with confidence and verification 
are still weak. 

Second, the Ecuador-Peru clash 
showed that multilateral cooperation 
on sensitive security issues is possible. 
Close coordination between civilian 
and military officials in guarantor na- 
tions, among guarantors, and between 
guarantors and both parties was criti- 
cal. That required patience, discretion, 
respect for sovereignty, and intelligible 
procedures. The Rio Protocol, the Dec- 
laration of Peace of Itamaraty, and the 
mission terms of reference covered 



every step and enabled MOMEP to 
maintain independent communica- 
tions and transport. Another secret of 
its success was that the mission fo- 
cused on military concerns it could ad- 
dress professionally; it was explicitly 
precluded from political matters. For 
example, while MOMEP had responsi- 
bility for separating forces and defin- 
ing a demilitarized zone, resolving the 
underlying conflict was left to the 
diplomats. MOMEP actions were dis- 
tinctly identified as not bearing on 
where the border was or should be. 

Finally, experience has shown that, 
despite political convergence, inter- 
American security cooperation still must 
be approached with caution. National 
sovereignty and security are in many re- 
spects different sides of the same coin. 
Despite common rhetoric, working prin- 
ciples emphasize limits and separate 
spheres of action and interest. 

The 1995 Defense Ministerial of 
the Americas gathered together defense 
officials regardless of whether they 
were civilian or military. The meeting 
was pivotal to using political conver- 
gence in fostering not only better inter- 
American communication but also 
civil-military dialogue within a consti- 
tutional context. Future conferences 
could develop common guidelines for 
training exercises and arms transfers 
(including reliable supplies and con- 
trols). But in the immediate future, the 
best way to further communication 
may be through informal dialogue, ed- 
ucation, and study rather than any or- 
ganized action. Civilian and military 
leaders still tend to inhabit separate 
universes with no general agreement 
on their respective roles. More should 
be done by training civilians in security 
matters, military officers in human 
rights, and both in public administra- 
tion and regional comity. In a similar 
vein, OAS has emphasized confidence- 
building measures. 

The United States should avoid act- 
ing alone in hemispheric security mat- 
ters. Working with other nations will 
sometimes fall short, but consultation 
will uncover allies. And if Washington 
develops solutions with others rather 
than unilaterally by the sheer weight of 
its power, it will help consolidate secu- 
rity and democracy to the benefit of all 
the peoples of the Americas. JFQ 



national sovereignty and security are 
different sides of the same coin 



72 JFQ / Spring 1996 




PB4Y-1 on patrol, 1943. 



Defense of the 
Hemisphere: 

An Historical 
Postscript 

By JOSE F. MATA 



I n times of major crisis, the nations 
of the Western Hemisphere have 
traditionally put aside their differ- 
ences and united in a common 
cause. Such was the case during World 
War II when the Americas came to- 
gether in collective defense well before 
becoming actively involved in that ter- 
rible conflict. The defense of the hemi- 
sphere was a top priority then as it is 
today. Historically, the Monroe Doc- 
trine has been the cornerstone of U.S. 
security policy in the region. An out- 
side threat to one country was viewed 
as a threat by all its neighbors. Thus, 
when aggression in Europe and Asia 
began to spread across the Atlantic and 
Pacific Oceans between 1939 and 
1941, Washington, in partnership with 
many nations in Latin America, took 
steps to deal with what was becoming 
a world-wide conflict. 

In April 1939, the Joint Army- 
Navy Board determined that the only 
way in which the hemisphere could be 
assailed was from a base of operation 
on the coast of West Africa. The board 



estimated that subsequent operations 
could project combat power to Brazil. 
The fall of France in 1940, the anom- 
alous status of French colonies in 
Africa during 1940-41, and German 
successes in North Africa in 1941-1942 
gave substance to this view. As the cri- 
sis intensified continental security be- 
came more critical for the Americas. In 
March 1942, General George Marshall, 
chief of staff of the U.S. Army, ex- 
pressed his concern to the Inter-Ameri- 
can Defense Board (IADB) and re- 
quested a quick response to the threat: 

Without delay, we soldiers must show the 
way to our countries, not only how to de- 
fend our nations and the heritage of our 
American tradition, but also to make sure 
there will be no challenge to our strong po- 
sition and united strength. 

Defensive Arcs 

Before World War II, Washington 
adopted the so-called ''good neighbor" 
policy to promote a spirit of coopera- 
tion throughout the region and facili- 
tate a series of conferences addressing 
the defense of the 
hemisphere. At the 
Buenos Aires con- 
ference in 1936, 
President Franklin 
Roosevelt articu- 



lated the need for the new world to 
unite against threats from the old 
world to avert war. The Declaration of 
Lima in 1938 reaffirmed that American 
republics would help each other if at- 
tacked. Subsequent meetings took 
place in Panama in 1939 and Havana 
in 1940. The former resulted in the De- 
claration of Panama that promulgated 
a neutral zone of 300 miles into the 
Pacific and Atlantic for belligerent war- 
ships. The latter, prompted by the de- 
feat of France, Belgium, and the 
Netherlands, discussed administration 
of French and Dutch possessions in 
this hemisphere, especially regarding 
potential Axis interference. Finally, the 
Rio de Janeiro conference of foreign 
ministers in 1942 established IABD to 
coordinate and plan defense measures. 
It was comprised of military, naval, 
and air attaches from most nations of 
the hemisphere who met regularly to 
consider improvements in regional de- 
fense. The Rio conference also recom- 
mended an immediate meeting of mil- 
itary and naval technicians from each 
nation be convened in Washington to 
suggest defensive measures. This con- 
ference was significant because it was 
the first time military representatives 
of each nation discussed hemispheric 



Colonel Jose F. Mata, USA, is director of the Inter-American 
program at the U.S. Army Center of Military History which 
fosters historical contacts with Latin American armies. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 73 



■jfq forum 



South Atlantic Air Routes, 1941-43 




Source: Barry W. Fowle, editor, Builders and Fighters: U.S. Army Engineers in World War II (Fort Belvoir, 
Virginia: U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, Office of History, 1992). 



security. A common threat unified the 
Americas as the "good neighbor" pol- 
icy gradually evolved into a more co- 
hesive strategy that promoted both co- 

hemispheric security 
revolved around a defensive 
arc of bases from 
Newfoundland to the 
Windward Islands 

operation and the interests of every 
American state. 

In the Atlantic, hemispheric secu- 
rity revolved around a defensive arc of 
land, naval, and air bases from New- 
foundland and Bermuda to Puerto Rico 
and the Windward Islands. In the Pa- 
cific, a similar security perimeter 
stretched from the Aleutians through 
the Hawaiian Islands to Panama with 
outposts in the Philippines and is- 
lands. While all Rainbow war plans in- 
corporated defensive arcs or perime- 
ters, they relied on participation by all 
nations in the Western Hemisphere 
through bilateral or multilateral agree- 
ments and provision of support bases 
and forces. The United States therefore 
pursued basing rights in the hemi- 
sphere for defensive perimeters. The 
Destroyer-Base Agreement between 
Washington and London in 1940 se- 
cured bases in Bermuda, the Bahamas, 
Jamaica, St. Lucia, Antigua, Trinidad, 
and British Guiana in exchange for 50 
vintage destroyers. At the same time 
the formation of the U.S. Army 
Caribbean Defense Command pro- 
vided for multinational defense of the 
Caribbean, Panama Canal, and the cor- 
responding sealanes. 

The U.S. Army Caribbean Defense 
Command formed part of a larger 
Continental Defense Organization 
which included Eastern, Central, 
Southern, and Western Defense Com- 
mands. Of the 379,000 soldiers as- 
signed to continental defense, 185,000 
were combat troops including 140,000 
who served in antiaircraft and coast ar- 
tillery units. The Navy created Eastern, 
Western, Gulf Sea, Caribbean, and 
Panama sea frontiers to defend 
sealanes. The Army had responsibility 
for land-based air defenses while the 



Navy protected the sea approaches. 
The former had to safeguard the trans- 
Atlantic routes and convoys of mer- 
chant ships with troops and critical 
supplies bound for allied nations. Only 
when the threat of invasion subsided 
were the theaters reduced and eventu- 
ally inactivated. In practice, the Allied 
offensives in Europe, Axis inability to 
project power overseas, and German 
intelligence ineptitude limited Axis ef- 
fectiveness in the Western Hemisphere 
to the U-boat campaign. 

Since a critical portion of the de- 
fensive perimeter consisted of land for- 
tifications, the Army upgraded coastal 
defenses with the latest artillery pieces 
and target detecting radars. These mea- 
sures significantly improved the range 
and effectiveness of ground defenses, 
enabling them to engage targets at 
longer range. Washington also offered 
displaced guns to its Western Hemi- 
sphere allies under provisions of Lend- 
Lease legislation to improve their 
coastal defenses, thereby helping them 
to establish a more coherent defense 
against invasion. 1 



Following the attack on the U.S. 
Pacific Fleet and Hawaiian Islands in 
December 1941, the Western Com- 
mand received a higher priority. The 
theater was reinforced by antiaircraft 
units and 250,000 soldiers to defend 
the west coast. The Navy had initially 
given top priority to the Pacific theater. 
At the time the Japanese posed the 
greatest sea threat while the British 
navy was strong enough to control the 
Atlantic and contiguous waters. But as 
victories at the Coral Sea and Midway 
reduced the Japanese threat in the Pa- 
cific, the havoc caused by German sub- 
marines in the Atlantic became a press- 
ing problem. During the first six 
months of 1942 Allied losses to U-boats 
rose from about 200,000 tons to 
700,000 tons monthly, mostly from 
merchant ships sunk off the coast of 
Brazil and in the Caribbean. 2 

The sinking of merchant ships 
probably posed the most significant 
threat to the hemisphere and war effort 
since it could interdict the flow of 
troops and materiel. The situation so 
concerned Marshall that on June 19, 
1942 he told Admiral Ernest J. King, 
chief of naval operations, that "losses 
by submarines off our Atlantic seaboard 



74 JFQ / Spring 1996 




Mata 



and in the Caribbean now threaten our 
entire war effort. . . At that time the 
Navy was still preoccupied with halting 
the Japanese advance in the Pacific and 
also lacked the forces to conduct a 
comprehensive anti-submarine cam- 
paign in the western Atlantic. 

Cooperation and Foresight 

The Atlantic crisis was overcome 
only by innovation, cooperation, dedi- 
cation, sacrifice, and support of each 
service throughout the hemisphere. 
One initial response to U-boat attacks 
was the conversion of commercial 
yachts to patrol ships for the northern 
ship lane patrol. These vessels policed 
coastal waters and provided advance 
warning to convoys. Similar unarmed 
ships, the so-called "hooligan navy," 
were used, with yachtsmen forming a 
coastal picket patrol by May 1942. 
Moreover, civilian pilots disqualified 
from military service because of med- 
ical or age restrictions volunteered 
without pay to establish the Civil Air 
Patrol, which ultimately reported 173 
enemy submarine sightings. The Army 
agreed to allocate bombers to the Navy 
for long range anti-submarine pa- 
trolling. An anti-submarine warfare 
school opened in 1942 which trained 
1,374 men from 14 nations. Produc- 
tion of submarine chasers was a na- 
tional priority that resulted in hun- 
dreds of ships being available for 
convoy escort duty by 1942. The 
coastal convoy system, also organized 
in 1942, ran the length of the U.S. east 
coast and interconnected with other 
major shipping points in the Gulf of 
Mexico and Caribbean as well as off 
Brazil and West Africa. 

Each nation in the hemisphere 
played a defensive role by patrolling its 
coasts and waters. This was especially 
the case in the Caribbean where criti- 
cal shipping lanes to Europe and Africa 
as well as traffic passing through the 
Panama Canal had to be protected. 
Many nations agreed to base U.S. 
forces to reinforce the defensive perim- 
eter. The United States augmented this 
coalition under bilateral agreements 
and security assistance, and the Navy 
stationed vessels and aircraft in the 
Caribbean and South America to facili- 
tate patrol and escort missions. 



Mexico, for example, allowed the 
forward basing of U.S. aircraft to sup- 
port Panama. In the process, the 
United States and Mexico drafted plans 
for defending the Mexican northwest 
and U.S. southwest. Farther south, 
Brazil was critical because of its prox- 
imity to north Africa. Thus, the United 
States sought bases in the ports of Re- 
cife, Natal, and Salvador, and on Fer- 
nando de Noronha Island. Marines 
guarded Brazilian airfields at Belem, 
Natal, and Recife. The Army built a 
major airfield in Puerto Rico. Trinidad 
and Aruba contributed minesweepers, 
cutters, and bases, while Cuba fur- 
nished small gunboats to escort 
Florida-Havana seatrains, and one sank 
a German U-176. Moreover, a reaction 
force of 50,000 troops was available to 

the security of the Americas 
was critical to establishing 
bases for launching offensive 
operations 

defend against enemy landings. Conti- 
nental security was a joint and coali- 
tion effort. 

Although the western theater saw 
extremely limited combat compared to 
others, the security of the Americas 
was critical to establishing bases for 
launching offensive operations. This 
secure environment facilitated produc- 
tion of equipment and resupply of 
global forces. The cooperation and 
foresight of key leaders throughout the 
hemisphere regarding basing agree- 
ments and security assistance made 
collective defense possible. Bilateral 
agreements also served to anchor secu- 
rity in the hemisphere. The United 
States and Mexico, for example, agreed 
to allow their forces to cross each 
other's border if warranted. Some na- 
tions also provided offensive forces. 
Mexico deployed a fighter squadron to 
Luzon in the Pacific while Brazil mar- 
shaled an infantry division and sup- 
port troops which fought with the U.S. 
Fifth Army in Italy. Brazil also sent a 
fighter squadron to the European the- 
ater and its navy helped to escort con- 
voys across the Atlantic. Moreover, 



Brazil had planned to deploy a larger 
expeditionary force — comprised of 
three infantry divisions, an armored 
division, and aviation squadrons with 
support units — but encountered diffi- 
culties in organizing and transporting 
it. Nevertheless, such contributions in- 
creased the strength and effectiveness 
of Allied combat forces and solidified 
the war effort by providing access to 
raw materials. Additionally, the de- 
ployment of combat forces by Latin 
American nations underscored their 
commitment to the war. 3 

Allied landings in North Africa 
further reduced the threat to the West- 
ern Hemisphere, and the defeat of the 
Afrika Korps in 1943 removed the 
prospect of an invasion of Brazil. In 
addition, the enemy submarine fleet 
had been greatly reduced together 
with any threat to the continent 
from the Pacific. However, the de- 
fense structure of the hemisphere 
remained intact until the end of 
World War II and ultimately pro- 
vided the foundation for postwar 
cooperation. 

World War II united a hemi- 
sphere and in the process brought to- 
gether the peoples of many nations. 
The timely commitment by the United 
States to the "good neighbor" policy fa- 
cilitated this climate of cooperation. 
Genuine unity of effort led to both sta- 
bility and security in the hemisphere 
despite a grave outside threat. JFQ 



NOTES 

1 Stetson Conn and Byron Fairchild, The 
Framework of Hemisphere Defense: U.S. Army 
in World War II (Washington: Office of the 
Chief of Military History, 1960); and 
Stetson Conn, Byron Fairchild, and Rose C. 
Engelman, Guarding the United States and Its 
Outposts: U.S. Army in World War II (Wash- 
ington: Office of the Chief of Military His- 
tory, 1964). 

2 For shipping losses to U-boats and de- 
tails on other events, see Barrie Pitt, The 
Battle of the Atlantic: World War II (Alexan- 
dria, Va.: Time-Life Books, 1977). 

3 Charles E. Kirkpatrick, Defense of the 
Americas: The U.S. Army Campaigns of World 
War II, World War II commemorative series 
(Washington: U.S. Army Center of Military 
History, 1991). 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 75 




NATO 's 

Military Future 

By DANIEL W. CHRISTMAN 



H ohenfels is a household name to many 
American soldiers. For decades, 7 th Army 
trained in this part of Germany for large 
scale mechanized combat on the plains 
of Central Europe. While the old Warsaw Pact 
that provided the focus of that training has disap- 
peared, our soldiers still hone their combat 
skills — from tank gunnery to small unit maneu- 
vers — there and at nearby Grafenwohr. Even 
though tank main gun rounds are still cracking 
down range, profound changes are underway at 
the 7 th Army training center: former Cold War 
warriors of the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s would be 
struck by its transformation. Hohenfels remains 
capable of accommodating thousands of troops 
in a combat maneuver setting. But of equal im- 
portance, it is also now a proving ground for the 
new NATO non-article V missions that extend be- 
yond collective defense. 

This capability was illustrated vividly when 
Secretary of Defense William Perry toured Hohen- 
fels and Grafenwohr in November 1995 to ob- 
serve the 1 st Armored Division preparing for the 
Bosnia operation. First he visited a range where 
M1A1 crews were firing qualification tables for 
tank gunnery. Less than an hour later, he encoun- 
tered American soldiers at mock villages in peas- 
ant costumes and assorted uniforms playing 
Bosnians, Croats, and Serbs. Hohenfels proved to 
be ideal as a setting in which to prepare troops 
for the Implementation Force (IFOR), just as it 
had prepared troops for armored mobile warfare 
in past years. 



Lieutenant General Daniel W. Christman, USA, is assistant to the 
Chairman and has served as U.S. military representative to NATO. 




There is tremendous symbolism in the Ho- 
henfels of the mid-1990s. While tank gunnery is 
the traditional NATO article V mission of collec- 
tive defense, mock villages and role playing repre- 
sent the new NATO role in operations other than 
war. This highlights an essential truth: the military 
future of NATO depends on achieving a balance 
between continuity and change. For the United 
States in particular, this means balancing readiness 
and training for high intensity combat with prepa- 
ration for non-article V operations such as those in 
the former Yugoslavia. European militaries, on the 
other hand, must maintain their combat compe- 
tencies in the rush to adopt new missions. Striking 
an appropriate balance is not easy, especially in a 
period of sharply constrained resources. 

Continuity 

Any discussion of NATO's military future 
should begin with the theme of continuity since 
that is the foundation for NATO adaptation. As 
adaptation proceeds, it is crucial that the Alliance 
not divest itself of the fundamentals that have 



76 JFQ / Spring 1996 



DOD (R.D. Ward) 



Christman 



served it so well in the past. Rather than remak- 
ing NATO, we must build on the qualities and at- 
tributes that have made it a success. 

It is useful to recall the agreed Alliance ap- 
proach to security, one only recently recon- 
firmed. In the 1991 strategic concept NATO rec- 
ognized that "The military dimension remains 
essential. Maintaining an adequate military capa- 
bility and clear preparedness to act collectively in 
the common defense remain central to the Al- 
liance's security objectives." 1 This mission re- 
quires a capability to guarantee the territorial in- 
tegrity and fundamental security interests of all 
Alliance members as well as politico-military deci- 
sionmaking structures and procedures needed to 
effectively employ forces. 

NATO military authorities have normally 
achieved this mission with capable conventional 
forces, integrated military command structure, and 
workable standardization agreements. The benefits 
of such capabilities were ob- 
vious to the world during 
Desert Storm. The seamless 
integration of NATO ground 
and air assets by the coali- 
tion contributed signifi- 
cantly to the defeat of a re- 
gional hegemon whose antics threatened not just 
regional stability but the interests of Alliance mem- 
bers thousands of miles from the Persian Gulf. 

But core military capabilities are not only de- 
cisive for a contingency like the Persian Gulf. 
They are also important for reasons closer to 
home in Brussels. First, an adequate conventional 
force structure offers a rotation and training base 
for non-article V missions such as the Balkans. 
Regrettably, some NATO land component force 
structures have been cut so severely that many 
countries find it difficult to sustain more than a 
battalion-sized deployment for an extended pe- 
riod. This reality will hopefully provide a floor 
under existing structures and lead to a review of 
the adequacy of conventional capabilities for a 
range of NATO missions. As an aside, the French, 
though not currently fully integrated, are the first 
of our major European partners to recognize the 
need to fundamentally restructure their forces to 
make them deployable and sustainable in suffi- 
cient numbers to deal with likely challenges. 

Second, the great increase in military-to-mil- 
itary contact programs with Central and Eastern 
European nations highlights the importance of 
an adequate structure with which forces can in- 
teract and train. For North America, this means 
staying engaged on the continent. For Europe, it 
means retaining sufficient structure for Central 



some NATO countries find it 
difficult to sustain more than 
a battalion-sized deployment 



and Eastern European nations to realize their ex- 
pectations with regard to contact with the West. 

The final reason relates to reconstituting 
conventional defense capabilities by the Alliance 
should a major threat materialize in the future. 
Leadership development is widely recognized as 
the long pole in the tent in this reconstitution ef- 
fort. Force reductions — clearly necessary in the 
wake of the Warsaw Pact's dissolution — must not 
leave the Alliance with an inadequate basis for 
leadership development; that is, too few units 
into which developing leaders can be integrated. 
Nations must ensure that new generations of mil- 
itary leaders can both learn and practice military 
fundamentals. If we forget this important point, 
we dangerously mortgage the Alliance's future. 

We need, in short, to ensure we do not lose 
our core combat competencies and structures as 
we embrace new missions. Collective defense re- 
mains the fundamental purpose of NATO and 
should be the basis for a rational transformation 
of the Alliance to respond to new demands. Non- 
article V capabilities are derivative from article V 
requirements — not the reverse. 

We also need to preserve and build on struc- 
tures and procedures that enable 16 sovereign na- 
tions to discuss and agree to political objectives, 
then transform the objectives into guidance for 
NATO military authorities. This is a unique 
strength of NATO which must be preserved. 

Change 

However profound the changes over the past 
six years have been for the Alliance, the next six 
years are likely to create an even greater transfor- 
mation of European security space. As one analyst 
noted, NATO is being reinvigorated in unantici- 
pated ways, not simply by its participation in IFOR, 
but also as a result of the prospect of enlargement. 2 
In this light, three challenges are likely to arise for 
those serving the Alliance in uniform. 

Operations. We must ensure that our concep- 
tual differences over reorganizing NATO do not 
stand in the way of undertaking new tasks, even 
if that means an ad hoc organizational response to 
get the operation off the ground. NATO simply 
cannot be paralyzed by debates on theory. The Al- 
liance deployment to the Balkans is a reassuring 
case in point. Currently 60,000 NATO troops are 
deployed there, and earlier deployments under 
Sharp Guard and Deny Flight reflect ministerial 
and head of state decisions in London, Rome, 
and Oslo that endorsed NATO peacekeeping ac- 
tivities. Participants at the meetings may not 
have envisioned the scope of these deployments; 
but they did recognize the need to broaden the 
traditional NATO approach to military involve- 
ment as well as to alter structures and procedures 
to facilitate new operations. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 77 



■NATO'S FUTURE 




U.S. and Russian 
commanders at Tuzla 
air base. 



interoperability experience, and we about them, 
than could be learned in a decade of seminars 
and classroom instruction. 

Nothing could be more illustrative than the 
operational integration of Russian and French 
forces in IFOR. Their incorporation on the practi- 
cal level is proceeding extremely efficiently. On 
Russian integration, a significant effort was made 
last autumn by Generals Joulwan and Shevstov, 
endorsed by their respective defense ministers, to 
get the military playbook for Bosnia right. And 
they succeeded. The effectiveness of this coordi- 
nation in Mons and Brussels has been evident on 
the ground with the remarkably smooth inclu- 
sion of the Russians in the U.S. sector. The Russ- 
ian brigade serves under the tactical control of 
General Nash, commander of the 1 st Armored Di- 
vision, and receives operational instructions from 
General Joulwan through General Shevstov. One 
will not find this command arrangement in any 
field manual, but it works. As one senior officer 
in theater remarked, the relationship between 
General Nash and his counterpart is "as good as 
you can get." 

Further, the Russian troops, operating in a 
particularly delicate and difficult area of Bosnia, 
have shown great professionalism and serious 
commitment to the mission. All indications are 
that interoperability between the Russian Federa- 
tion and NATO is both feasible and practical. 
Clearly, there is potential for combined operations 
on a larger scale. As Secretary Perry has stressed in 



Unloading C-130 in 
Sarajevo for Joint 
Endeavor. 

Unfortunately, the deliberate pace of restruc- 
turing the Alliance internally was overtaken by 
the more dramatic and more rapid pace of exter- 
nal events. As a result, NATO has been forced to 
adapt on the fly. Although it has been a difficult 
and at times frustrating path to get to this point, 
operations on the military side are proceeding su- 
perbly. This is largely true because NATO mem- 
bers have not waited to get the theory right be- 
fore acting. As some observers have said, we are 
literally reconstructing the Alliance "brick by 
brick, from the ground up; it's not the theory that 
is going to drive the practice but the practice that 
will drive the theory." 3 

Secretary Perry placed this point in context 
when he addressed the Wehrkunde conference in 
Munich on February 4, 1996. "It is in Bosnia, 
where future NATO members are showing them- 
selves ready and able to shoulder the bur- 
dens. . . ," he stated. "It is in Bosnia where we are 
showing that we can work as partners with Russ- 
ian forces. Bosnia is not a peacekeeping exercise; 
it is the real thing." The members of the Partner- 
ship for Peace (PFP), including Russia, are likely 
to learn more about us from this year of practical 



78 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



Combat Camera Imagery (Ken Bergmann) 



Christman 



this regard, Russia and NATO do have a special re- 
lationship in Bosnia; every day that the Russian 
brigade commander, Colonel Lenstov, engages 
with General Nash displays Russia's commitment 
to participate in the future security architecture of 
Europe. It is a perfect example of building the new 
NATO architecture from the ground up, brick by 
brick. 4 These are important bricks. 

Similarly, French integration has not been an 
issue during the IFOR deployment. As any Ameri- 
can officer with NATO experience can attest, on 
the practical military level, 
U.S. forces have always 
worked superbly with their 
French counterparts. Desert 
Storm and Bosnia highlight 
that fundamental point. 
Differences do exist at the 
policy level about the the- 
ory behind non-article V operations. However, 
theoretical differences expressed in Brussels or 
elsewhere have not blocked progress on the 
ground. As with NATO's Russian experience, the 
challenge will be to take the practical lessons 
learned in standing up IFOR and use them in fi- 
nalizing the architectural drawings of the new Eu- 
ropean security structure. 

Notwithstanding the success in interoperabil- 
ity and coordination demonstrated in Bosnia, at 
some point we must draw on these experiences 
and implement the restructuring that has been 
long studied. When this is done, we must ensure 
that a coherent and integrated alliance remains, 
one that can carry out military operations across a 
spectrum of missions it may be called on to per- 
form. NATO must be careful not to establish mili- 
tary, crisis management, or military planning 
committees which function uniquely for non-arti- 
cle V missions. In the short term, we simply can- 
not afford two alliances. And, in the long term, bi- 
furcation in the approach to non-article V and 
article V missions is a certain way to disengage 
this hemisphere from the European continent. 

Internal Adaptation . The second issue has al- 
ready been suggested: the Alliance must ensure 
that it does in fact adapt itself internally to re- 
spond even more efficiently to new missions and 
political requirements down the road. The need 
for such adaptation was recognized at least two 
years ago. At that time, military authorities were 
advised that expenditures on NATO overhead 
would soon crowd out nearly all operational and 
discretionary funding for key programs such as 
PFR The NATO Senior Resource Board concluded 
that the Alliance could no longer accept salami 
tactics in budgetary and structural cuts. This real- 
ization prompted the NATO chiefs of defense to 
commission a long-term study (FTS) to streamline 



on the practical military level, 
U.S. forces have always 
worked superbly with their 
French counterparts 



the NATO command structure. FTS is a crucial ele- 
ment in the process of examining and transform- 
ing the Alliance. 

Besides resource priorities, however, other is- 
sues are impacting the outcome of the study. First 
is the realization that we must move from an es- 
sentially static, defense-oriented structure to one 
that is more flexible, mobile, and responsive in a 
crisis — that is, to one more reflective of the Al- 
liance's new strategic concept. The recent an- 
nouncement by France that it intends to partic- 
ipate more actively in the military activities of 
the Alliance has also impacted on the study. The 
decision reveals, in part, a growing realization in 
Paris that the so-called European pillar must be 
grounded within the Alliance, not separate from 
it. In fact, France has, for all practical purposes, 
abandoned the notion of a two-pillar alliance in 
favor of an enhanced European role in NATO. 

The overall goal of this internal examination 
must be to strengthen the ability of the Alliance 
to respond to a variety of crises while maintain- 
ing its core mission of collective defense — and to 
do so while cutting overhead in a manner which 
respects regional sensitivities. This will not be 
easy, but NATO military authorities are already 
some distance toward this goal. 

One element of this organizational evolution 
merits special mention: the combined joint task 
force (CJTF). This is a concept that would extend 
the strength of the integrated military structure 
into new mission areas and more easily accom- 
modate operations outside the territorial limits of 
the 16 NATO members. CJTF also facilitates the 
inclusion of PFP nations in non-article V opera- 
tions such as Joint Endeavor in Bosnia. 

The NATO Military Committee agreed on six 
principles for CJTF development to guide the 
Alliance as it comes to closure on this important 
internal adaptation: 

■ preserve the integrated military structure 

■ provide for separable but not separate forces in 
support of European Security and Defense Identity 
(ESDI) 

■ maintain a single command structure for article 
V and non-article V missions 

■ retain the role of the Military Committee in advis- 
ing and transmitting strategic guidance from the North 
Atlantic Council (NAC) to NATO Military Authorities 5 

■ avoid ad hoc participation in NATO bodies 

■ preserve the ability of Major NATO Commands 
to do timely contingency planning. 

NATO member countries are close to agree- 
ment on this concept. Although we have cut 
through theological arguments in the field to es- 
tablish several CJTFs (for example, Sharp Guard, 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 79 



■NATO'S FUTURE 




NATO and PFP. Internal change will not be 
enough. For long-term viability, NATO must 
adapt externally. Initiatives such as NATO en- 
^ largement, a formalized NATO-Russia relation- 
2 ship, and PFP represent important measures that 
| project stability and security to the East. Because 
£ of the central role which NATO's military is play- 
! ing and must continue to play in PFP, however, 
§ this program will be the focus of the third and 
final challenge. 

Few understand what the projection of sta- 
bility means in practice. Consider two examples 
drawn from recent NATO experience with PFP. 
The first took place in the midst of the euphoria 
that accompanied the launching of PFP, prior to 
the Budapest summit conference on Security and 
Cooperation in Europe in December 1994. At the 
time Hungary and Romania were resisting practi- 
cal steps toward military cooperation partly be- 
cause of the traditional ethnic tension. Yet, prod- 
ded by the West and the realization that these 
differences were impeding integration in Euro- 
pean security institutions, the two countries 
scheduled unprecedented combined ground and 
air maneuvers on and over each other's territory. 
This small but significant step added a measure of 
stability to an historically unsettled part of the 
continent. 

Perhaps a more timely example is the 1995 
naval exercise sponsored by Bulgaria under PFP. 



Italian troops during 
Strong Resolve. 



Landing craft crossing 
Norwegian fjord. 



Deny Flight, and Joint Endeavor), it is time to 
stop doing things on an ad hoc basis and imple- 
ment a badly needed structural reform. 

More broadly, it is imperative that we get on 
with a more sweeping structural adaptation of the 
Alliance for future operations and implement 
quickly those aspects most important to meeting 
the new security challenges to European stability. 
We cannot afford to continually study the issue. 
Instead, we must take the lessons learned from the 
ongoing IFOR deployment and institutionalize 
the 90 percent solution. Structures and procedures 
can be further refined as the Alliance grows. 



80 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



U.S. Navy (Mark Therien) 




Christman 



PFP enables nations to evolve 
toward the political-military 
structures common to the Alliance 



Bulgaria served as the bridge between Turkey and 
Greece to reduce tension in the Eastern Mediter- 
ranean. Despite being members of NATO, both 

nations have tradi- 
tionally found it dif- 
ficult to exercise side- 
by-side; but for at 
least one month, PFP 
helped to lower a sig- 
nificant barrier to 
stability in the Alliance by bringing them to- 
gether in a military training setting. 

This partnership is one of the most important 
security investments the Alliance can make. PFP 
enables nations in Central and Eastern Europe to 
establish true interoperability with Alliance forces 
and, perhaps more significantly, to evolve toward 
the political-military structures and habits of co- 
operation common to the Alliance. 

A quick review of PFP activities shows just 
how far we have come in the past two years in re- 
ducing the barriers that for so long artificially di- 
vided Europe: 



■ 27 nations have joined the partnership. 

■ Partnership coordination cells have been estab- 
lished in Mons at Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers 
Europe to conduct the military planning needed to im- 
plement partnership programs; there is also representa- 
tion at NATO headquarters in Brussels. 

■ Partner nations have conducted nearly 50 exer- 
cises throughout both Central and Eastern Europe and 
on NATO allied territory, including at the Joint Readi- 
ness Training Center (JRTC) at Fort Polk, Louisiana. 

■ Partnership programs have moved beyond sim- 
ple tactical skills, incorporating a range of military as 
well as political-military elements. 

■ Most noteworthy is participation by 13 partner 
nations in the NATO-led IFOR mission in Bosnia, with 
their forces working side-by-side with the Alliance in a 
peacekeeping operation. 



Despite tangible accomplishments, much re- 
mains to be done. NATO is postured to take the 
partnership to an essential second stage of matu- 
ration. In this regard, we must strengthen the de- 
fense planning element of the partnership to ac- 
celerate the movement of partner nations toward 
higher levels of interoperability. This planning 
process, which has existed within the Alliance for 
decades, has provided a remarkable mechanism 
for integrating national forces into an interopera- 
ble whole. In fact, defense planning is the foun- 
dation on which the highly effective NATO mili- 
tary structure is built. It is now time to extend a 
version of that mechanism into the partnership. 
This will reap enormous benefits for NATO, pro- 
foundly deepening cooperation and also prepar- 
ing the willing and able for eventual membership 
in the Alliance. 

Further, the Alliance must transform PFP ex- 
ercises into a robust, integrated program, built on 



unglamorous but essential training events. This 
would eventually lead to conducting complex, 
large, free-play exercises that extend partner capa- 
bilities in agreed mission areas of peacekeeping, 
humanitarian assistance, and search and rescue. 
Partners must, in turn, expand their representa- 
tion at Mons and Brussels; they must also ensure 
that representatives are properly qualified, so 
they can conduct detailed accession negotiations 
which, for some, surely lie ahead. 

Perhaps most importantly, the Alliance must 
ensure that PFP has the resources to meet its 
goals. U.S. contributions totaled $130 million for 
1995-96 which reflects the importance attached 
to the program and our leadership. We must en- 
sure that this critical program is similarly re- 
sourced by our allies in the out years. Funding is 
literally the lifeblood of the partnership. 

During the summit in Brussels in January 1994 
the North Atlantic Council reaffirmed that NATO 
remains the core security institution in Europe as 
well as the forum for U.S. engagement there. As the 
participants agreed: "We confirm the enduring va- 
lidity and indispensability of our Alliance. It is 
based on a transatlantic link, the expression of a 
shared destiny. It is reaching out to establish new 
patterns of cooperation throughout Europe." 6 

The United States sees, and must continue to 
see, an important role in this shared destiny. This 
is reflected in our national military strategy by 
the central role accorded engagement. We have 
learned at great cost, in two world wars in this 
century, the significance of both engagement on 
the continent and continued U.S. leadership. The 
somber and majestic American cemeteries which 
dot the European landscape speak clearly of that 
commitment to Europe and of the role of institu- 
tions such as NATO in maintaining this vital link- 
age during a time of unprecedented change. JPQ 



NOTES 

1 "The Alliance's Strategic Concept," NATO Handbook 
(Brussels: NATO Office of Information and Press, 1995), 
p. 241. 

2 Elizabeth Pond, "Europe Welcomes American Mili- 
tary Leadership," The Wall Street Journal (European Edi- 
tion), December 6, 1995. 

3 Ibid. 

4 Ibid. 

5 The three NATO Military Authorities are the Chair- 
man of the NATO Military Committee, the Supreme Al- 
lied Commder Europe, and the Supreme Allied Com- 
mander Atlantic. 

6 NATO Handbook , p. 242. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 81 





Future Joint 

Contingency Operations 

By ANTHONY J. TATA 



During the summer of 1994 the world watched in horror as 
Rwandan government forces composed of members of the Hutu 
tribe killed their rival Tutsi countrymen in a ghastly civil war. 
That campaign of terror was intended to methodically destroy 
the Tutsi minority while isolating the outside world from the 
conflict. Hutu forces seized Rwanda's only major airport, openly 
stating that their goal was to block the West from sending air- 
land relief forces and supplies to surviving Tutsi men, women, 
and children. The Hutu victory was total. While stark, brutal im- 
ages of this tragedy remain, the strategically relevant issue is 
that the Hutus knew how to hinder intervention. The Rwandan 

civil war will go down in his- 
tory for its savagery, yet it is a 

Lieutenant Colonel Anthony J. Tata, USA is special assistant to model that Can Shape future 

commander in chief, U.S. Army Europe; he formerly served as executive # 1 

officer, 3 d Battalion, 504 th Parachute Infantry Regiment. COntingdlCy plcillS cillCL fOfCGS. 



82 JFQ / Spring 1996 



32 d Airborne Division 





Tata 



Simply put, in an era of sovereign borders 
and nationalistic forces, dissidents simply need to 
deny a strategic lodgement to their adversaries. 
There will not always be seaports like Dhahran or 
facilities like Howard Air Force Base through 
which to build up combat power. Contingency 
operations will most likely require forcibly open- 
ing lodgement. Only by exploiting the capabili- 
ties of the Armed Forces under joint task forces 
(JTFs) can the Nation conduct strategic power 
projection to seize lodgements and also achieve 
quick, decisive victory with minimal casualties. 

The Theory 

To establish a theater of operations a joint 
force must translate a few concepts into reality. 
Because the United States no longer enjoys 
prominent forward basing, a joint force must pos- 
sess, first and foremost, a base of operations to 
build and further project combat power. Only 
then can it establish lines of communications 
through which a tactical plan is executed. 

Naturally, the base of operations and support- 
ing lines of communications are predicated on the 
enemy disposition. Therefore, the joint force must 
also identify decisive points at which it may direct 
its combat power. Frequently these decisive points 
may also be the enemy center of gravity or more 
indirect targets aimed at weakening the enemy's 
strength prior to engaging it directly. 

Concepts such as bases of operations, lines of 
communication, decisive points, and centers of 
gravity translate into forcible entry 
plans for JTFs that focus on lodge- 
ments and simultaneously seizing 
other objectives. Even an unsophis- 
ticated enemy understands that in- 
tervening forces must have bases of 
operations. To refuse a base is to 
forestall intervention. Conflicts will 
accordingly boil down to initial struggles to es- 
tablish lodgement, without which little else is 
possible. 

Power projection means getting there 
quickly with something that can make a differ- 
ence. Whether a base of operations exists in per- 
missive or nonpermissive entry environments is 
largely irrelevant. To be effective, joint forces 
must plan for the worst case scenario when 
threats arise: nonpermissive entries require rapid 
projection of overwhelming combat power. U.S. 
Army Field Manual 100-5 provides succinct guid- 
ance on this point: 

An important strategic consideration for planning 
contingency operations that involve the potential for 
combat is to introduce credible lethal forces early. 
Commanders should be prepared to deploy sufficient 
combat power to resolve a crisis on favorable terms . 1 



nonpermissive entries 
require rapid projection 
of overwhelming 
combat power 



Campaign plans must call for joint forces capable 
of seizing and establishing bases of operations 
that will support construction of a theater of op- 
erations and facilitate the concept of operation. 

Courses of Action 

Since the nonpermissive solution is some- 
what simpler to predict, the following discussion 
makes the assumption that forcible entry is re- 
quired to establish the base of operations. JFCs 
have an array of forces to choose from when 
planning a contingency operation. They may se- 
lect Marine amphibious or air assault forces, 
Army light, air assault, or airborne forces, or spe- 
cial operations forces. Indeed, they may decide to 
employ a combination to maximize the strengths 
of each. 

In considering all types of forces, power pro- 
jection methods may be categorized as strictly air- 
land or sealand, a combination of airland or 
sealand and airborne assault, or strictly airborne 
assault. As in the case of Somalia, using a strictly 
airland and/or sealand approach for lodgement 
drives the joint force to sequentially apply com- 
bat power. Regardless of the service component, 
all airland and sealand techniques require ferry- 
ing back and forth or economizing the force to 
the point that the risk may become unacceptable. 
It also takes longer to secure a lodgement, get 
onto lines of communication, and begin seizing 
decisive points. 

The airland and sealand options depend on 
the availability of open airfields, usable ports, or 
accommodating beaches. Even if airfields and 
ports are available and are not blocked by enemy 
forces, sequential combat power build-up is slow. 
With multiple permissive entry ports as well as 
airfields, Desert Shield required five months to 
build sufficient combat power for Desert Storm. 

As a force begins to project from a lodgement, 
airspace becomes congested with helicopters and 
planes competing for air corridors, increasing the 
risk to an operation. But most dangerous to the 
joint force is that it is tied to one location, which 
may become easy for an enemy to interdict. In 
Rwanda government troops preemptively seized 
the airport before any outside forces could airland. 
Sealand or air assault from naval platforms were 
not an option in the landlocked nation. 

Using the abstract model a strictly airland/ 
sealand course drives JFCs to seize a lodgement, 
build sufficient combat power, then execute 
ground tactical plans. The period between the 
seizure of lodgement and executing the ground 
tactical phases allows an enemy time to seize the 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 83 



■ a fight for lodgement 




initiative in areas not proximate to chosen lodge- 
ments, and perhaps even to increase defensive pos- 
tures, take hostages, or attack friendly vulnerabili- 
ties. Adversaries could also exploit this time lag to 
influence international media to undermine na- 
tional will and distort perceptions by the public. 

In a generic theater with one airfield, one 
port, and three groups of 40 targets, wargaming 
confirmed that a force of eight combat battalions 
could airland or sealand, build combat power, 
and then seize objectives in 48 to 72 hours. It fur- 
ther revealed that cratering airfields or demolish- 
ing ships in port could exponentially delay clo- 
sure and contribute to a piecemeal commitment 
of force. 

Airland /Sealand and Airborne Assaults 

Augmenting joint forces with airborne assets 
creates a course of action that utilizes a mix of 
airborne and air/sealand forces. Airborne forces 
seize airfields and decrease the risk of airlanding 
once assault objectives are seized. These forces 
can also airdrop airfield repair packages, vehicles, 
and tanks to give JFCs capabilities to repair air- 
field damage and simultaneously seize lodge- 
ment. Capturing a second drop zone away from 
airfields affords JFCs with flexibility in initiating 
ground tactical plans immediately or reinforcing 
the fight for lodgement. 

Airland forces then arrive when the airfield 
was estimated to be opened by airborne assault 
forces. However, an enemy can extensively dam- 
age airfields, thereby increasing repair time and 
potentially disrupting subsequent time phased 
force deployment lists. Yet if airland forces are also 
rigged for parachute assaults, runway conditions 
become immaterial. Forces may be dropped onto 



airfields or alternate drop zones. If airland forces 
cannot conduct parachute drops, closure will de- 
pend on the availability of operational airfields. 

Wargaming revealed that the essential ad- 
vantage of combining airland/sealand and air- 
borne forces is an accelerated build-up of combat 
power. Sixty C-130s can drop four fully equipped 
battalions in thirty minutes compared to thirty- 
six hours to airland the same size force. This 
course of action also allows commanders to place 
combat forces away from lodgement so that joint 
forces can seize critical objectives at the outset. 
More aircraft can drop added battalions and 
enough heavy equipment to give a force tactical 
mobility. The airland force could be rigged for air- 
drop to provide flexibility. 

Analysis based on wargaming shows that the 
key disadvantage in this course of action is that 
the airland force may be tasked with critical mis- 
sions, while its closure is dependent on airfield 
availability. An enemy would still have time to 
react to the objectives of airland forces. Moreover, 
although decreased, the time for combat power 
build-up still suffers at the hands of a sequential 
air flow determined by the maximum operating 
on ground capacity of airfields. Typical airfields 
can handle four C-141s or eight C-130s every 
hour, which equates to nearly a battalion. That 
ground capacity is calculated to include the time it 
takes an aircraft to land, taxi to an offload point, 
offload, back taxi, and take off. Under analysis, 
these calculations resulted in the combination 
force seizing all 40 objectives in 24 to 48 hours. 

Airborne Assault 

JFCs may employ a strictly airborne assault 
force to seize lodgements and execute portions of 
a ground tactical plan which offers the most 
rapid closure. The Air Force can provide adequate 
C-130s and C-141s to airdrop assault echelons of 
nine combat battalions with enough equipment, 
supplies, and support personnel to seize a lodge- 
ment and other objectives simultaneously. 2 

As one assessment of the difference between 
airborne and airland forces in the planning for 
Operation Just Cause pointed out: "The fact is, we 
could get an airborne division on the ground in 
ten minutes or we could get an airlanded brigade 
in a day and a half." 3 That comment emphasizes 
the fact that an airborne unit requires only the 
pass time over a drop zone and assembly time to 
be a cohesive combat force, while an airland force 
builds combat power sequentially and slowly. 
With simultaneity as a linchpin for quick, deci- 
sive victories with minimal casualties, the air- 
borne assault option appears the best suited to 
meet the Nation's high expectations. 



84 



JFQ / Spring 1996 





Tata 



Wargaming demonstrates that airborne as- 
saults quickly assimilate combat power and deny 
an enemy influence over operations. Other ad- 
vantages are that when airfields are heavily de- 
fended or damaged, forces could simply use alter- 
nate drop zones, then 
attack airfields. This con- 
firms that the airborne 
assault option is a sound 
method for establishing 
bases of operations while 
seizing the initiative at 
outlying objectives. Force 
build-up and objective 
seizure rates are linked and prove that simultane- 
ity in forcible entry operations is best achieved by 
maximizing airborne capabilities. 

The Army Role 

The Army can exploit all means of employ- 
ment — airland, sealand, air assault, and airborne 
assault — to seize lodgement and establish lines of 
communication necessary to enable JTFs to carry 
the fight to an enemy. Accordingly, the Army has a 
vital role in fulfilling joint power projection re- 
quirements of national military strategy. While 
combatant commanders attempt to resolve crises 
in their AORs with available forces and flexible de- 
terrent options, force projection maybe needed. 

The Army offers the unique capability to a 
combatant commander to put trained and ready 
forces on the ground anywhere in the world on 
short notice — a rapidly deployable force to seize, 
hold, and control territory, with staying power 
that complements other forces in achieving tacti- 
cal through strategic objectives. Army divisions 
are the basic contingency force fighting unit and 
they are instructed to prepare for such instances: 
"The first rule of anticipation in a force projec- 
tion era is to expect to be alerted and deployed. 
Commanders everywhere in the Army must hold 
that view." 4 

Operation Uphold Democracy, the planned 
invasion of Haiti, validates the model described 
above. Analysis of the invasion plan provides accu- 
rate and timely visibility on the Army's ability to 
contribute in a forcible entry joint contingency op- 
eration where no friendly lodgements existed in 
country and those available for seizure were scarce. 

The charter of all Army divisions is to con- 
tribute to joint forces by being trained and ready 
for H-hour. Indeed, when President Clinton re- 
called the 82 d Airborne Division, the 10 th Moun- 
tain Division executed a permissive entry as JTF- 
190. Uphold Democracy showed that division 
level contingency operations from the continental 
United States (CONUS) are possible in the future. 



the Army can exploit all means 
of employment to seize lodge- 
ment and establish lines of 
communication 



A division must focus its efforts by identify- 
ing the likely war plan. Then the staff should co- 
ordinate with higher headquarters as well as 
other services to develop detailed planning. A di- 
vision can then derive its mission essential task 
list (METL) and develop its emergency deploy- 
ment readiness exercise (EDRE) program that in- 
tegrates contributions by the other services. A 
training management cycle should define 
wartime missions and develop plans, establish 
METLs, then plan, execute, assess training, mod- 
ify plans, and finally retrain. 

Planning 

The impetus to train and be ready for H- 
hour is dominated by the planning process. 
While tactical decisionmaking produces a con- 
cept that can drive training, other steps are re- 
quired to create a well synchronized, successful 
plan. One proven technique for contingency 
planning is to employ the four phases of air- 
borne operations: ground tactical, landing, air 
movement, and marshaling. 

A division must first develop a ground tacti- 
cal plan based on the course of action conceived 
during tactical decisionmaking. The staff develops 
a template of the threat and directed objectives, 
then groups them by proximity or similarity, fi- 
nally matching friendly resources against all areas 
which call for force. Uphold Democracy required 
the 82 d Airborne Division to seize 40 objectives in 
12 hours over an urban center with the popula- 
tion of Denver and geographic area of Boston. Ac- 
cordingly, a requirement was stipulated to close 
maximum force as quickly as possible. 

Resolving a ground tactical plan leads to de- 
veloping a landing plan to include selection of 
drop zones, beach landing areas, or landing zones 
which best facilitate mission accomplishment. A 
landing plan facilitates executing a ground tacti- 
cal plan, including seizure of lodgement. For the 
Haiti mission, 82 d Airborne chose two drop zones 
that afforded flexibility as well as rapid seizure of 
several primary objectives. 

After designating a landing plan, air and sea 
movement plans must be developed to close the 
force into country. Initially, staffs must avoid 
making a ground tactical plan conform to stated 
airlift and sealift constraints. Efforts must be 
made to provide resources for ground tactical 
plans. The 82 d Airborne Division had 60 C-130s 
for drops over Port au Prince International Air- 
port and 45 C-141s for drops over Pegasus drop 
zone. Another eight C-141s carrying 864 person- 
nel were rigged for an airdrop but slated to air- 
land at H+4 hours, providing the airport was 
open for airland operations. Also, three ships 
were scheduled to off-load at the port within the 
first 48 hours. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 85 



■ a fight 



FOR LODGEMENT 



Finally, marshalling plans are perhaps the 
most difficult for a division-level contingency op- 
eration. The 82 d Airborne Division plan accom- 
modated 113 aircraft involved in the assault force 
air movement plan and three ships available in 
the sea movement plan, as well as follow-on air- 
land by using multiple air and sea ports of em- 
barkation in CONUS. 

While the four phases of airborne operations 
provide an excellent framework for planning con- 
tingency operations, detailed synchronization is 
required to account for the overlap and myriad ac- 
tions of all phases. Wargaming and synchroniza- 
tion of battlefield operating systems are the best 
means of integrating contingency operations from 
the marshaling through ground tactical phases. 

Training 

A contingency division can extract METL 
from the newly developed "most likely war plan" 
with an eye on fitting into JTFs. Tasks such as 
"maintain division readiness to deploy world- 
wide within 18 hours notice directly into com- 
bat," "alert, marshal, and deploy the division," 
and also "conduct an (airland, sealand, or air- 
borne) assault to seize an (airfield, landing zone, 
beachhead, or port) and/or establish a lodge- 
ment" become obvious METL items in a power 
projection world. 5 

Determining related battle tasks allows divi- 
sion commanders to isolate key components of 
likely war plans and establish aggressive joint 
force oriented EDRE programs. By challenging 
readiness each month, commanders can increase 
readiness and shape contributions to joint forces. 
In time EDREs should be more complex and diffi- 
cult in order to exercise the maximum number of 
forces. For example, the 82 d Airborne Division 
with the Air Force conducted a battalion airfield 
seizure and noncombatant evacuation on an un- 
familiar runway in South Carolina in late 1993. 
The heavy drop included two bladders of fuel to 
sustain aviation operations during the exercise. 

In July 1994, by contrast, the entire division, 
several Air Force wings, Marine and Navy air- 
naval gunfire liaison company teams, and special 
operations forces participated in "Big Drop," an 
EDRE in which fifty C-141 equivalents and 
twenty C-130s dropped eight battalions, a secu- 
rity element, and 28,000 gallons of aviation fuel. 
The aviation brigade used strategic self-deploy- 
ment, concluding with a four-hour flight over 
ocean at night, refueling at a new aviation assem- 
bly area, and mounting an air assault of three bat- 
talions on multiple objectives within an hour of a 
parachute assault. Establishing a lodgement and 
executing a ground tactical plan require extensive 
battlefield operating system synchronization 
which can be trained steadily while not deployed. 




The intelligence community must focus on 
utilizing national assets and translating a wealth 
of information into exploitable intelligence at 
battalion level. Thorough intelligence preparation 
of the battlefield is a requisite. Accurate worst 
case analyses that does not underestimate an 
enemy must be provided. Timely en route intelli- 
gence is essential to contingency operations. A di- 
vision probably cannot insert its long range sur- 
veillance detachment prior to H-hour. Other 
methods exist to attain early entry intelligence. 
Timely imagery is the prime source of intelligence 
in contingency operations requiring forcible 
entry. G-2 staffs must practice these tasks during 
EDREs to develop the skills to operate in a contin- 
gency environment. 

The maneuver community is responsible for 
synchronizing all battlefield operating systems 
and other services in its tactical plans. When 
training is planned, a division staff should recall 
that an assault force ground tactical plan drives a 
joint force plan. Airland and sealand start only 
when lodgements are secure. As such, to train 
and be ready for H-hour, a division must continu- 
ously plan and execute complex joint training 
that tests actual force levels and timelines. 



86 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



82 d Airborne Division 




Tata 



Great Inagua Island, 
Bahamas. 







The primary fire support tasks in a contin- 
gency operation are to provide and/or control 
fires across a division zone as well as to integrate 
psychological operations and nonlethal fires into 
the scheme of maneuver. A division should re- 
hearse counterfire techniques in training with 
AC-130s. While JTFs are responsible for preas- 
sault fires, a contingency division should rou- 
tinely practice employing them in support of as- 
sault forces. 

Engineers play a vital role in providing mobil- 
ity support to ensure a lodgement can receive the 

follow-on flow of forces 
and equipment. Light 
airfield repair packages, 
port opening teams, 
tanks to push containers 
off runways, and 
hotwire teams to start 
and move vehicles 
which serve as obstacles are the kinds of tools used 
by engineers and assault forces in response to rudi- 
mentary but effective capabilities of adversaries. 

Air defenders have a critical role in protect- 
ing lodgement and staging bases from air attack, 
particularly during vulnerable periods before sig- 
nificant assets are airlanded. Both Stinger missile 
gunners and Avengers can be airdropped with as- 
sault forces for immediate protection. When air 



command and control of forcible 
entry operations requires that 
key leaders communicate en 
route and on the ground 



threats are minimal, air defense forces should 
practice using "'weapons safe" controls whereby 
grip stocks and rounds are connected only by 
order of the commander. 

Training combat service support for contin- 
gency operations requires a division to work the 
full marshaling phase of its EDRE program, then 
execute CDS resupply and medical evacuation 
planning. Combat lifesavers, tactical mobility, and 
advanced trauma life support packages dropped 
with assault forces provide initial medical coverage 
until sophisticated equipment can be airlanded. 
Assault forces should train taking three days of 
supplies into theater without overloading soldiers. 
In reality, combat service support planners should 
lighten individual loads, deliver rucksacks, and 
push package resupply by combat direction system 
drop, slingload, or airland. 

Command and control of forcible entry op- 
erations requires that key leaders communicate 
en route and on the ground. JTF and division 
staffs should practice using airborne command 
posts such as EC-1 35s, airborne command and 
control centers, and joint airborne command and 
control command posts. Also, EDREs and other 
exercises should use secure en route communica- 
tions and hatchmount satellite communications 
on aircraft with key leaders. Forces then should 
practice the evolution of communications in the- 
ater, moving from rucksack radios to vehicle ra- 
dios, then to retrain directed communications, 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 87 



82 d Airborne Division 



■ a fight for lodgement 



and finally ending with theater-wide mobile sub- 
scriber equipment communications supported by 
contingency communications packages. 

Soldiers and Equipment 

Being ready for H-hour means recruiting and 
retaining quality soldiers who are prepared for 
difficult training and missions. Joint forces are re- 
sponsible for accomplishing missions while car- 
ing for both soldiers and their families. Aggressive 
family support group programs, including suit- 
able facilities and instruction, allow the individ- 
ual soldier to concentrate on the task at hand. 

Today's high quality soldiers are afforded 
leadership opportunities that increase readiness 
to meet the demands of lodgement and contin- 
gency operations. NCO courses produce team and 
squad leaders who can take charge in the absence 
of orders. Historically, lodgement battles have 
often rested on actions by small bands of para- 
troopers executing a mission in a decentralized 
way. The battle staff NCO course provides divi- 
sions additional expertise in tactical operations 
centers. Airborne, air assault, and Ranger training 
instill confidence in junior leaders. Officers at- 
tend basic and advanced courses to increase tacti- 
cal proficiency while the U.S. Army Command 
and General Staff Officer College teaches field 
grade officers about employing forces on the op- 
erational level to achieve strategic goals. Profes- 
sional development programs and individual 
reading programs must also reinforce lessons 
taught in the classroom. Although smaller, the 
Force XXI Army consists of well trained leaders 
and soldiers capable of training and executing 
forcible entry operations. 

Modern equipment is key to outfitting sol- 
diers for seizing lodgements and force projection. 
The Army continues to exploit the mismatch in 
capabilities of its adversaries. For example, night 
vision goggles and OH-5 8s provide contingency 
forces with the ability to exploit the darkness and 
achieve tactical surprise. Other technological ad- 
vances critical to contingency operations are 
Q-36 counterfire radars, Avengers, and all source 
analysis systems. 

Developing a plan, training to it, and em- 
ploying state of the art technology enables 
today's Army division to be a credible asset for 
JTFs. The unique ability to seize a base of opera- 
tions and rapidly stifle an enemy makes it partic- 
ularly suited as the force of choice for power pro- 
jection. As enemy forces realize that an opposing 
force cannot effectively intervene without a 
lodgement, and that airpower alone is insuffi- 
cient as demonstrated in the Balkans, the first 
order of business for JFCs will be to open the door 
to a theater of operations. 



Uphold Democracy 

With no friendly lodgement or forces in 
country, the concept for Haiti called for a genuine 
forcible entry plan. The mission statement of the 
82 d Airborne Division indicated that the opera- 
tion would involve an attack by conducting mul- 
tiple airborne assaults with follow-on airdrop/air- 
land as the situation dictated. The essential tasks 
were to establish three JTF lodgements, protect 
American citizens and property as well as desig- 
nated foreign nationals, and neutralize the Hait- 
ian military and police to create the conditions 
for restoring democracy in Haiti. 

With 40 D-day objectives, the 82 d Airborne 
Division required an airborne assault force of 3,848 
paratroopers using two drop zones and 113 air- 
craft. The 504 th Parachute Infantry Regiment 
would seize the primary drop zone, Port au Prince 
International Airport, and follow-on objectives, in- 
cluding facilities that served as the seaport for 
lodgement. The 325 th Airborne Infantry Regiment 
would relieve the 504 th and expand the lodgement. 
The 505 th Parachute Infantry Regiment would seize 
a second drop zone, Pegasus, a large division sup- 
port command element, the aviation brigade as- 
sault command post, fuel/ammunition handlers, 
and a security element. Notably, this drop zone 
was designed for the 82 d Aviation Brigade to arrive 
from an infiltration site, drop its external store fuel 
tanks, and pick up the air assault task force. Some 
71 heavy equipment platforms would be dropped 
into Pegasus, providing 28,000 gallons of aviation 
gas airdropped with refueling pumps, six M551 
Sheridan tanks, enough mobility to move a rifle 
company, the better part of an antitank company, 
and back-up engineer equipment. 

Operationally, Pegasus drop zone was an ex- 
tension of the division's base of operations and 
an alternate drop zone in the event an airborne 
assault at the airport was untenable. Tactically, 
the drop zone was a consolidation point for most 
of the division's mobile assets, providing a force 
that could swing around the exterior of Port au 
Prince to seize outlying objectives and block the 
ingress and egress of enemy forces to and from 
the lodgement. 

Division artillery would provide indirect fires 
from the airfield and command and control of 
joint fire support assets. The division support 
command would consolidate containerized deliv- 
ery system bundles at Pegasus and help to run the 
airfield once the airland began. Since the division 
would fight primarily at night, every soldier in 
the airfield assault force had night vision goggles. 

The Scenario 

Light rain fell on the assault force at Pope Air 
Force Base as its paratroopers rigged their equip- 
ment beneath the wings of C-130 Hercules and 



88 JFQ / Spring 1996 



Tata 



C-141 Starlifter transports in preparation for a 
combat airborne assault on two drop zones in 
Haiti. Another 4,500 paratroopers were processing 
through marshaling areas for airland operations to 
execute follow on missions and link up with 810 
pieces of equipment the division sent by fast sealift 
and another 323 to be brought in by airland. 

As directed by President Clinton, 32 C-130s 
left Pope and conducted an aerial link-up with 28 
C-130 heavy equipment drop aircraft from 
McDill Air Force Base. In addition, 53 C-141s at 
three different ports of embarkation taxied into 
position for subsequent airdrops. 

Meanwhile, the division exchanged 24 liai- 
son teams with higher, adjacent, and subordinate 
units. The 82 d Aviation Brigade strategically self- 
deployed and infiltrated 33 UH-60s, 17 CH-47s, 
and eight OH-58s to 
Great Inagua, a remote 
island in the Bahamas 
off the northwest tip of 
Haiti, where crews were 
exchanged and the air- 
craft refueled. They were 
being preparing to travel 
the last 200 miles to a selected pick-up zone and 
to execute three battalion level air assaults in the 
first eight hours of the operation. JTF-180, with 
the 82 d Airborne Division en route, was trained 
and ready to seize lodgements and execute the 
tactical plan. 

The President had put in motion the largest 
airborne invasion since Market Garden during 
World War II and one day prior to Uphold De- 
mocracy. That a JTF was capable of placing eight 
infantry battalions, one armor battalion, an as- 
sault helicopter battalion, a cavalry squadron, 
and three days of combat service support assets in 
theater in four hours in a tactically coherent fash- 
ion demonstrates that the Army and its sister ser- 
vices can meet the joint force commander's needs 
in establishing a lodgement while simultaneously 
executing a ground tactical plan. 

Force Projection 

The preparations by the 82 d Airborne Divi- 
sion for Uphold Democracy offer considerations 
for joint contingency forces. They indicate what 
must be done in order to depart CONUS in good 
repair and deploy directly into combat. 

■ Be trained and ready not only to fight but to 
marshal and move on short notice. 

■ Focus training on the most likely war plan — bat- 
tle focused training. 

■ Develop a plan which exploits and maximizes 
the capabilities of all components. 

■ Identify an enemy's center of gravity and attack 
it directly or through decisive points with overwhelm- 
ing force using simultaneous operations. 



the President had put in motion 
the largest airborne invasion 
since Market Garden during 
World War II 



■ Conduct emergency deployment readiness exer- 
cises that rehearse key components of the plan, particu- 
larly with joint forces. 

■ Plan marshaling, air movement, landing, and 
ground tactical phases in detail. 

■ Be innovative in planning — where particular 
types of forces are not required employ them in versa- 
tile ways as force multipliers. 

■ Emphasize troop-leading procedures at division 
level — enforce the one-third/two-thirds rule, execute 
rest plans, and conduct rehearsals. 

■ Never underestimate an enemy — study the 
courses of action open to each adversary. 

■ Rehearse mobilization plans because they al- 
ways require support from other units. 

By adhering to these guidelines, a division 
staff can provide major subordinate commands 
with planning and training necessary for combat 
success. Uphold Democracy involved all types of 
forces. This discussion has focused on how one di- 
vision fit into the establishment of a theater of op- 
erations, prepared for that role, and executed two 
phases of its assigned portion of the operation. 

Joint forces will demand more resources and 
greater integration to keep pace in the future. 
First, we should replace aging C-141s with suffi- 
cient C-17s to project power and conduct forcible 
entries around the world. Without strategic lift for 
airdrop, the Armed Forces will be hamstrung in 
conducting strategic forcible entries. Second, we 
should procure fast sealift to move forces quickly 
to regional hotspots. Without adequate forward 
basing, fast sealift becomes paramount to follow- 
ing airborne or airlanded forces with sustainment 
for continuous operations. Finally, CINCs should 
continue to hold annual joint training exercises 
and focus them on power projection, forcible 
entry scenarios. No service can conduct forcible 
entries independently of JTFs. CINCs must con- 
tinue to practice establishing JTF headquarters, 
and staffs should be tested on command and con- 
trol of the myriad forces involved in JTFs. JFQ 



NOTES 

1 Department of the Army, FM 100-5, Operations 
(Washington: Government Printing Office, 1986), p. 2-1. 

2 82 d Airborne Division, "Uphold Democracy: Mili- 
tary Operations in the Republic of Haiti," Operation 
Plan, annex C: Air Movement Plan (September 9, 1994). 

3 Thomas Donnelly, Margaret Roth, and Caleb Baker, 
Operation fust Cause: The Storming of Panama (New York: 
Lexington Books, 1991), p. 89. 

4 Department of the Army, FM 100-5, p. 1-1. 

5 82 d Airborne Division mission essential task list 
(May 1994). 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 89 





edical Dimensions of Joint 
[umanitarian Relief Operations 



As missions shift from major war to regional conflict, the med- 
ical structure is also adopting jointness and a different posture 
in support. A significant humanitarian focus has been given to 
regional affairs, and health care plays an important part in it. 
This analysis examines joint medical operations during Provide 
Relief, Restore Hope, and support for UNOSOM II . 1 




Randolph and Cogde 



Provide Relief 

The effort to feed the starving masses in 
southern Somalia began in August 1992 with the 
arrival of a U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM) 
humanitarian assistance survey team (HAST) in 
Mombasa, Kenya. Its role was to determine the 
command and control and the logistical support 
necessary for the joint task force (JTF) to conduct 
relief operations. The team's medical members as- 
sessed the medical infrastructure in Mombasa and 
Nairobi. Based on the relatively small number of 
personnel who were to deploy in support of Pro- 
vide Relief — about 700 — and the suitability of 
host nation facilities, arrangements were made to 
use hospitals in Mombasa for patient stabilization 
and temporary holding. One 

Restore Hope was more hospital stored u.s. blood 

products in the event they 

logistically intense and were needed for American 

required expanded resources personnel. Further special- 

ized care was available from 
host nation facilities in 
Nairobi. Definitive care was available within U.S. 
European Command (EUCOM) or the continen- 
tal United States (CONUS). Organic assets of de- 
ploying units provided initial medical care and 
treatment. 

Aeromedical evacuation (AE) flights were ei- 
ther scheduled or diverted from Dhahran in Saudi 
Arabia with assets supporting Operation Southern 
Watch (the no-fly zone in southern Iraq). A cost- 
lier alternative was to request a dedicated AE mis- 
sion from Ramstein, Germany. Because of the ar- 
duous ten-hour flight from Kenya to Germany, 
refueling would take place in Djibouti where a 
French military hospital was available for patients 
whose conditions had deteriorated and required 
care that the AE crew could not provide. 

Throughout the operation, food was airlifted 
to relief centers in southern Somalia as well as 
northern Kenya near the Somalia border. For four 
months Provide Relief ran coincident with Restore 
Hope and concluded at the end of Febmary 1993. 

Restore Hope 

Despite providing the equivalent of 112 mil- 
lion meals, the magnitude of the famine and the 
breakdown of government meant that the Pro- 
vide Relief airlift could not ameliorate the starva- 
tion in Somalia. 2 Consequently, Restore Hope 
commenced on December 9, 1992, the result of a 
decision to step up relief with a command and 
control element known as Unified Task Force 
(UNITAF). 



Brigadier General Leonard M. Randolph, Jr., USAF, currently commands 
60 th Medical Group, and Lieutenant Colonel Matthew W. Cogdell, USAF, 
is assigned to Medical Readiness Division (J-4), Joint Staff. 



A surgeon's office was established as part of 
UNITAF. The JTF surgeon, a Navy captain, was a 
medical officer with a staff of three medical ser- 
vice corps officers from the Army, Navy, and Air 
Force. Eater the functions of JTF surgeon were as- 
sumed by dual- and ultimately triple-hatted med- 
ical commanders. Preventive medicine assets, 
which included an Army problem definition and 
assessment (PDA) team and a Navy rapid diagnos- 
tic forward laboratory, augmented the staff. The 
early deployment of these teams was a lesson 
learned in the Gulf War. 

From a medical outlook, Restore Hope was 
more logistically intense than Provide Relief and 
required expanded resources. Because its scope had 
changed, a new medical mission was developed to 
accommodate joint and combined operations in 
Somalia. It would involve a range of medical ser- 
vices for disease and for both noncombat and 
combat injuries. Theater medical services would 
include evacuation, hospitalization, logistics, labo- 
ratory, blood management, veterinary, preventive 
medicine, dental care, and unit command, control, 
and communications. Planning was to include 
routine care of U.N. forces and humanitarian med- 
ical care of local citizens though these were not 
specified tasks. The following assumptions guided 
medical planning for Restore Hope: 

■ casualties were to be expected, as were illness 
and injuries 

■ host nation medical infrastructure would be in- 
adequate or nonexistent 

■ medical capabilities of troop contributing na- 
tions would not meet U.S. standards 

■ U.S. medical forces would be required to treat 
Somalis 

■ hospital capabilities would be afloat (on Navy 
ships) for the first 30 days 

■ shore-based capabilities would be most vulnera- 
ble to Somali requests for assistance (not a significant 
factor) 

■ some continued hospital capability afloat would 
be a haven for U.S.-only casualties (also not a factor) 

■ hospital beds would be manipulated by type of 
specialty 

■ a public assumption that we would treat Soma- 
lis was not assessed 

■ afloat hospital capability would require alterna- 
tive capability ashore 

■ too much medical support would be recover- 
able, but too little would not. 

The deployment of a hospital ship was con- 
sidered in the planning stage of Restore Hope. 
The chief advantages of deploying a hospital ship 
were to reduce the possibility of being inundated 
by host-nation patients like shore-based facilities, 
providing a more secure environment for medical 
resources, and reducing requirements for shore- 
based logistical support. In lieu of a hospital ship, 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 91 



■ MEDICAL DIMENSIONS 



Make-shift pharmacy 
in Somalia. 



a shore-based deployed hospital was chosen after 
consulting with the Joint Staff. 

Medical capability in the area of operations 
(AO) was austere and limited to treating patients 
with illnesses or injury of short duration. This 
was done to expedite their return to duty or stabi- 
lize wounds before evacuation from theater. Dur- 
ing phase I of Restore Hope (approximately the 




Joint Combat Camera Center (Terry Mitchell) 



first 25 days), Marine collecting and clearing 
companies offered limited medical care ashore. 
Enhanced medical care was provided afloat. Host 

nation hospitalization 
in Somalia was not 
considered for use by 
U.S. personnel. 

USS Tripoli, an 
amphibious assault 
ship, provided sup- 
port until a shore-based hospital became opera- 
tional in mid-January 1993. Medical facilities 
aboard USS Tripoli consisted of two operating 



American personnel were to treat 
coalition and Somali casualties 
on an emergency basis only 



rooms, two intensive care unit beds, 29 ward beds, 
and 144 overflow beds which had been Marine 
bunks prior to disembarking. With appropriate 
staffing, medical care was provided to casualties 
with minimal injuries using these bunks. 

Early in the operation two surgical teams 
(with a total of 23 medical personnel) augmented 
the ship's company of one medical officer and ten 
corpsmen. Among the members of these teams 
were an orthopedic surgeon, three medical offi- 
cers, an anesthesiologist, and a nurse anesthetist. 

During phase II (days 25 to 91), organic 
medical support accompanied forces deploying to 
Baidoa and other major interior relief centers. 



92 JFQ / Spring 1996 



Joint Combat Camera Center (Terry Mitchell) 





Randolph and Cogde 



Personnel assigned to an Army evacuation hospi- 
tal established shore-based hospitalization capa- 
bility using deployable medical systems 
(DEPMEDS) equipment ashore at Mogadishu In- 
ternational Airport. The equipment for the land- 
based hospital was initially to come from a pre- 
positioned ship, Green Valley. Difficulties in 
off-loading because of inadequate berthing facili- 
ties resulted in transporting equipment from the 
United States by air. The evacuation hospital's ca- 
pabilities included orthopedic, thoracic, neuro, 
and general surgery. 

An Army medical group provided command 
and control for the evacuation hospital as well as 
two veterinary and four preventive medicine de- 
tachments, a medical clearing company, a dental 
detachment, a medical logistics battalion, a surgi- 
cal detachment, a mental health detachment, 
and both an air ambulance company and ground 
ambulance company. The medical group com- 
mander also assumed the duties of JTF surgeon. 
Three battalion aid stations and three medical 
companies were also located ashore. 

In addition, an aeromedical evacuation sys- 
tem composed of active and Reserve personnel 
was established early in the AO during phase I. Its 
major components consisted of an aeromedical 
evacuation control center (AECC), a mobile aero- 
medical staging facility (MASF), an aeromedical 
evacuation liaison team (AELT), and aeromedical 
evacuation crews. AECC provided the command 
and control for the deployed AE system. MASF 
provided a holding and treatment facility for up 
to 50 stabilized patients for 4-6 hours before 
evacuation. AELT provided a communication 
link, and aeromedical evacuation crews consisted 
of flight nurses and technicians. Because of the 
distances, an aeromedical evacuation operations 
team (AEOT) and six AE crews deployed to Cairo 
West Air Base to provide mission support and 
strategic crew staging for transiting AE missions. 

Aeromedical evacuation personnel and flight 
surgeons primarily used C-130 aircraft within So- 
malia to evacuate patients to Mogadishu. Retro- 
grade C-141 aircraft were used for patients who 
needed further medical care in EUCOM or 
CONUS. Flight surgeons deployed to provide clin- 
ical assessments of the suitability of casualties for 
aeromedical evacuation. 

On March 10, to conserve the system 
strength of aeromedical evacuation, AECC func- 
tions at Mogadishu transferred to AEOT at Cairo 
West. One AELT and two modified AE crews (each 
with a flight nurse and two technicians) re- 
mained in Somalia. Aeromedical evacuation per- 
sonnel, based at Cairo West, rotated in and out of 
Somalia as mission requirements dictated. 3 



An air transportable hospital deployed to 
Cairo West provided resuscitation, basic surgery, 
and emergency dental capability at the interme- 
diate staging base level. The function of the hos- 
pital, like the French military hospital in Dji- 
bouti, was to attend to patients requiring medical 
care beyond the capability of the aeromedical 
evacuation crew at the refueling stop. 

A field hospital replaced the evacuation hos- 
pital on April 23, shortly before operations in 
support of UNOSOM II began. It was situated in 
the American embassy compound because of the 
crowded conditions at the airfield and was re- 
placed by a combat support hospital on August 
14. The medical group rotated without replace- 
ment. A newly established medical task force 
(MTF) absorbed its functions. MTF was controlled 
by a field hospital commander who was dual-hat- 
ted, having assumed the responsibilities of JTF 
surgeon. 

UNOSOM II 

When U.S. Forces Somalia Command was es- 
tablished as part of UNOSOM II to support the 
transition of humanitarian relief operations to 
U.N. control, which began on May 4, the MTF 
commander became the U.S. Forces Somalia sur- 
geon, a third hat. Terms of reference developed 
by CENTCOM stipulated that medical assets were 
provided specifically for U.S. forces. American 
personnel were to treat coalition and Somali casu- 
alties on an emergency and exception basis only. 
UNOSOM coalition hospitals from Sweden, Pak- 
istan, and Romania cared for all other personnel 
and treated a small number of Americans during 
mass casualty situations. When Pakistani troops 
were ambushed on June 5, the U.S. MTF sup- 
ported U.N. medical facilities. This mass casualty 
incident was a turning point for the forces sup- 
porting UNOSOM II. 

On October 3, three UH-60 helicopters were 
downed in an unsuccessful effort to capture Mo- 
hammed Aideed. Eighteen Americans were killed 
in this action and in the ensuing combat and res- 
cue operations. MTF treated 73 patients during 
mass casualty operations that day. A few days 
later, a second mass casualty operation was initi- 
ated after a mortar attack on Mogadishu's airfield. 
Thirteen patients were treated by MTF. From Oc- 
tober 3 to 9, the workload included 96 hospital 
admissions, 70 evacuations, and 45 surgical pro- 
cedures, with five deaths. 4 This week represented 
the highest U.S. combat casualty load during the 
operation. 

As the situation turned hostile, transporting 
casualties from the medical task force hospital to 
Mogadishu airport became unsafe, and Army 
medical evacuation (Medevac) assets were used to 
complete safe and timely transfers of evacuees. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 93 



■ MEDICAL DIMENSIONS 



Figure 1. Restore Hope: Disease/Non-Battle Injuries.* 




Preventive Medicine 

Like the Desert Storm/Desert Shield theater 
in its initial stages, current and specific disease 
prevalence information concerning Somalia was 
not available from medical intelligence sources or 
even international health organizations. Com- 
pounding this deficiency was the virtually com- 
plete degradation of health care infrastructure in 
Somalia. This necessitated a preventive medicine 
effort to not only support U.S. forces but assist in 
providing limited support for other U.N. troops 
and those civilians who are invariably involved 
during such operations. 

Since health care providers were not familiar 
with diseases in Somalia, diagnostic problems 
were anticipated. More- 
over, most U.S. troops 
were immunologically 
naive to endemic diseases 
and hence more suscepti- 
ble to increased morbidity 
and mortality than the in- 
digenous population. Drug resistances were a 
known and expected treatment problem. To 
counter the infectious disease threat, some 
preparatory measures were taken. Information was 
distributed to heighten awareness of disease po- 
tential, immunizations and chemoprophylaxes 
were addressed, an in-country disease surveillance 
program was readied, and redeployment disease 
precautions were planned. 

Two publications that addressed the disease 
threat were widely distributed at the start of the 
deployment. One was aimed at medical and pre- 
ventive medicine personnel as well as comman- 
ders and troops. It assessed both infectious dis- 
eases and environmental health factors with 



the Somalia experience 
resulted in significant progress 
in conserving mission strength 



operational import, disease vector ecology infor- 
mation, personal protective measures, and pre- 
ventive medicine countermeasures. The other 
publication dealt with anticipated diagnostic dif- 
ficulties. It reiterated clinical aspects of significant 
diseases, including clinical presentation, labora- 
tory test interpretation, treatment, prognosis, and 
prevention of infectious diseases. It also ad- 
dressed malnutrition, stress, and neuropsychiatric 
problems. 

The first line of defense against some dis- 
eases is immunization. Administering a range of 
immunizations in a compressed period of time 
prior to deployment was a challenge that contin- 
ued in-theater in the form of administering im- 
munizations missed during the rush of deploying. 
Drugs for malaria chemoprophylaxis were chosen 
based on scant geographical distribution data. In 
May 1993, a number of soldiers and marines who 
had served in Somalia surfaced at medical clinics 
in CONUS with malaria. Noncompliance with 
chemoprophylaxis and poor protective measures 
were the most notable causes. But prophylaxis 
breakthrough noted in several patients was con- 
sistent with similar findings in other malarious 
areas of the world. 

Predeployment tuberculin skin testing was 
also required. The extreme flurry of activity due 
to the immediacy of deployment resulted in a no- 
table loss-to-follow-up in reading many tuber- 
culin skin tests. Early 1992 tuberculosis (Tb) mor- 
tality rates among Somali refugees were reported 
to be extremely high. Even prior to the civil un- 
rest the disease was a major health problem, 
moderately to highly endemic, and known to be 
resistant to multiple drugs. In addition, some 
U.N. personnel came from countries in which Tb 
is a major health problem. Thus importing drug- 
resistant Tb into the United States was a serious 
concern. 

Redeployment screening procedures for Tb 
and other health hazards were implemented for 
all personnel. Some units reported minimal to 
high (about 5 percent) rates of skin test conver- 
sions because of Somalia exposure, although 
many cases were ambiguous with regard to prede- 
ployment tuberculin-reactive status. Documenta- 
tion on measurements (or even positive/negative 
readings) of tuberculin tests was traceable to 
flawed immunization records that could have led 
to over-estimating exposure. Also, various units 
which were retested three months after redeploy- 
ment from Somalia showed an unexplainable loss 
of reactivity. 

Obtaining immediate disease surveillance 
data was key to establishing disease prevalence in 
Somalia and early identification of disease/injury 



94 



JFQ / Spring 1996 





% Troops Affected 



Randolph and Cogde 



Figure 2. Restore Hope: Heat Injuries. 




trends. The PDA team, augmented with a rapid di- 
agnostic lab-capability (joint forward laboratory), 
deployed with the initial JTF directly under the 
control of the theater surgeon. Through their en- 
ergetic efforts, a disease surveillance network that 
reached all service medical treatment facilities was 
established immediately and continued until the 
major withdrawals ended in March 1994. As a re- 
sult, timely outbreak information was obtained 
for trend analysis and disease investigation that 
also was performed by the PDA team in its first 
non-exercise utilization. Its merits were conclu- 
sively proven by remarkably low disease/non-bat- 
tle injury (DNBI) rates throughout the operation. 

The level of activity associated with rapid de- 
ployment as well as the mental stress which ac- 
companied Restore Hope and operations in sup- 
port of UNOSOM II were predictable problems. 
The factors that increased health risks included: 
time zone adjustment, heat acclimatization, di- 
etary change, increased accident rates from mov- 
ing/packing/unloading and the high tempo of ac- 
tivity in new surroundings, and the psychological 
strain from family separation, culture shock, geo- 
graphic disorientation, uncertainty about mission 
duration, threat of bodily harm, et al. A combina- 
tion of chaplains, combat stress teams, briefings, 
and publications for commanders, servicemem- 
bers, and health-care workers addressed these 
challenges. Although many factors were difficult 
to measure, DNBI surveillance data was far lower 
than predicted (see figure 1). Specifically, ortho- 
pedic/minor injury, gastrointestinal disease, and 
psychological complaints were very low. Though 
heat injuries were high during initial deployment 
when compared to the balance of the operation, 



this number was still extremely low, given the 
risk in the AO (figure 2). 

Because of the temporary nature of the oper- 
ation, redeployment was considered early in the 
game and potential problems were addressed: 
general health during deployment by means of 
health questionnaires (filed in health records); 
messages alerting health care workers to potential 
disease considerations (also recorded); briefings to 
alert troops of disease manifestations; implemen- 
tation of terminal malaria chemoprophylaxis; 
and repeat tuberculin skin testing 10-12 weeks 
post-return. Moreover, servicemembers, comman- 
ders, chaplains, social workers, and families were 
alerted to the psychological adjustment problems 
of returning to normalcy. 

Preventive medicine influences are typically 
easy to measure only when ineffective. Given nu- 
merous adverse factors in theater (for example, 
the austere environment and logistical character 
of the area, difficult climate, unknown threats 
from a range of diseases, and unpredictable na- 
ture of the operation), preventive medicine ef- 
forts reflected by low DNBI rates must be re- 
garded as unprecedented. While this triumph was 
partly due to lessons learned during Desert 
Shield/Desert Storm, the Somalia experience re- 
sulted in significant progress in conserving mis- 
sion strength, which must be remembered. 

Medical Logistics 

The Gulf War was a starting point for plan- 
ning medical logistics support. Marines initially 
provided class VIII (medical supply) support. After 
thirty days of Restore Hope, the Army picked up 
the mission as single integrated medical logistics 
manager (SIMLM) for class VIII support to all units 
in theater. Just as in Desert Shield/Desert Storm, 
coordination was effected with EUCOM to utilize 
the U.S. Army Medical Material Center, Europe 
(USAMMCE), as the source of class VIII material to 
sustain medical logistics battalions (MLBs) in So- 
malia as well as the air transportable hospital in 
Egypt. Class VIII support for emergency requisi- 
tions and routine items that were not stocked by 
USAMMCE also were provided by the Defense Per- 
sonnel Support Center. 

Overall, medical supply support was deemed 
a great success, with the single item manager con- 
cept proving more effective than in Desert Storm/ 
Desert Shield mainly because medical units de- 
ployed with the appropriate initial support sup- 
plies plus resupply packages of 15-30 days. This 
allowed MLBs to more easily sustain the force 
without outfitting units with class VIII at the out- 
set of the operation. In addition, MLBs not only 
deployed early but carried their initial inventories. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 95 





■ MEDICAL DIMENSIONS 





Surgical module, 
Mogadishu. 



In the deployment phase of Restore Hope, 
communications in the tactical AO were austere, 
a characteristic of modern contingency/humani- 
tarian operations. Communications thus took 
place over tactical single channel ultra high fre- 
quency satellite communications (SATCOM), 
commercial SATCOM-international maritime 
satellite, single channel radio (SCR), high fre- 
quency radio, and limited super high frequency 
SATCOM links. Units communicated in the AO 
predominantly over voice links. Limited data 
communication was available via facsimile or 
data transfers over tactical satellite or SCR, a con- 
straint which medical logistics units overcame. 
MLBs utilized a prototype system, known as the 
quad-service satellite transmission and receiving 
system for medical supply support, without 



which logistics would have been ineffective. It 
combines government proprietary message han- 
dling software and off-the-shelf hardware for 
satellite communications and message prepara- 
tion. This system can send and receive requisi- 
tions, supply status, and various transactions over 
landlines or satellites under the defense auto- 
matic addressing system (DAAS). It operated via 
satellite communications offered by the IN- 
MARSAT commercial system that is linked by 
portable, collapsible terminal with telephone and 
data transmission service. 

Some Lessons 

The creation of a JTF surgeon element during 
the initial days of Restore Hope was critical. The 
surgeon's staff expedited coordination of joint 
medical support and requirements. During a lull 
in activity, the functions of the surgeon were 
passed to the medical group commander, and 
later to MTF commanders. When the level of un- 
friendly activity in Somalia increased, it was diffi- 
cult to augment the staff. The surgeon was faced 
with a herculean task of acting as hospital com- 
mander, U.S. Forces Somalia surgeon, and JTF So- 
malia surgeon. The retention of a dedicated skele- 
ton surgeon's office would have constituted a 
significant asset in the coordination of medical 
activities as the operational tempo increased. 

Relying on USS Tripoli for emergency hospi- 
talization was crucial during the first month of 
Restore Hope. Lacking medical infrastructure in 
Somalia, the capability aboard USS Tripoli was the 
only source of hospitalization prior to land-based 
support. Because the weather, darkness, and other 
conditions could have compromised evacuations, 
a rapidly deployable land-based facility was 
needed. Establishing a pre-positioned hospital 
aboard Green Valley was problematic. High seas 
and shallow harbors prevented unloading. 
DEPMEDS equipment from CONUS provided an 
alternate land-based hospital to be deployed and 
set up in the 30-day planning window. 

Predeployment preparations must include 
preventive medicine assets during the early stages 
of planning. Education was a cornerstone in pre- 
deployment preparations for Somalia. It involved 
reacquainting health care workers with diagnos- 
ing diseases endemic to the region and education 
in local medical threats/countermeasures. Immu- 
nizations, Tb testing, and chemoprophylaxes are 
high priority measures that must be emphasized. 
The illusion that chemoprophylaxis offers total 
safety must be replaced by awareness that protec- 
tive measures are vital in preventing many vec- 
tor-borne diseases. Units targeted to specific re- 
gions should be maintained at 100 percent 



96 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



Randolph and Cogde 



medical readiness for deployment. While this is 
the best tactic to counter a failure to complete 
medical predeployment processing, units do not 
always enjoy the prior knowledge of their target 
destinations. 

There appears to be a shortfall in medical in- 
telligence which is probably a problem inherent 
in any intervention. PDA teams provide dynamic 
disease data on which constant adjustments in 
medical tactics can be made. Deploying a team 
early with initial forces, forming a comprehensive 
disease surveillance program, immediate disease 
outbreak investigations, and command level of 
recognition (directly under the theater surgeon) 
were factors that contributed immensely to suc- 
cess. Similar use and control of PDA teams should 
be the standard in future military deployments. 

Finally, the most important factor in all mili- 
tary preventive medicine endeavors, command 
support, must be secured. It ensures timely and 
regular reporting of disease surveillance data and 
enforces recommended countermeasures as prob- 
lems are identified. Command support is the only 
effective means of ensuring implementation of 
preventive measures. But it can be optimized only 
by educating commanders, a developmental 
process in which health care workers must ensure 
that commanders understand the priority of pre- 
vention over treatment. 

Dedicated Medevac helicopters were indis- 
pensable not only for evacuating casualties from 
the interior to Mogadishu, but within the capital 
itself. They were not available in the early days of 
the deployment, and such support was provided 
by general support helicopters whenever possible. 
Competing requirements would have seriously 
detracted from the medical mission if combat had 
increased. The Medevac helicopters came by sea 
from Europe necessitating ship deck qualification 
training for Army Medevac pilots. 

Aeromedical evacuation was another critical 
element that performed well during this effort. 
Air Force medical personnel at Cairo West and 
Mogadishu airport, in concert with other medical 
task forces and ships, provided timely support to 
evacuees. The establishment of staging bases at 
Djibouti and Cairo West was an important factor 
in safe and successful aeromedical evacuation. 

Communications austerity in the early stages 
of force projection is a characteristic of rapid tac- 
tical military operations today. It is essential that 
medical communications contingency planning 
be closely integrated with the total contingency 
communications planning process. In addition, it 
is crucial for the medical communications per- 
sonnel, supported command J-6, and JTF J-6 to 
work closely during the deployment and execu- 
tion phases to ensure that suitable communica- 
tion assets are allocated to the medical mission. 



Medical support for forces engaged in hu- 
manitarian relief operations in Somalia was 
highly successful because of forward thinking 
and flexibility in the planning and delivery of 
health service support on all levels. Joint medical 
planning expertise and activities were crucial in 
meeting health requirements. As the Armed 
Forces evolve in the post-Cold War era, the med- 
ical lessons drawn from Somalia may prove to be 
typical and thus should be carefully evaluated for 
future application. JPQ 



NOTES 

1 The authors collaborated with CAPT Sterling E. 
Garnto, USN; LTC John T. Harris, USA (Ret.); MAJ Dou- 
glas S. Phelps, USA; and LTC Steven J. Yevich, USA, in 
the preparation of an earlier version of this article and 
gratefully acknowledge their support and comments. 

2 Joseph P. Hoar, "A CINC's Perspective," Joint Force 
Quarterly, no. 2 (Autumn 1993), p. 58. 

3 See 1 st Aeromedical Evacuation Squadron, "Opera- 
tion Restore Hope After Action Report," June 15, 1993, 
and 32 d Aeromedical Evacuation Group, "Medical After- 
Action Report for AEOT: Operation Restore Hope," 
March 18, 1993. 

4 Headquarters, Medical Task Force 46, "Situation 
Report for Operation Continue Hope, October 4-10," 
October 11, 1993. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 97 





and Virtue 



By JAMES H. TONER 



James MacGregor Burns has stated that "Leadership over human 
beings is exercised when persons with certain motives and pur- 
poses mobilize . . . institutional, political, psychological, and 
other resources so as to arouse, engage, and satisfy the motives 
of followers ." 1 Although he is an acclaimed scholar, this propo- 
sition, though not erroneous, seems somehow incomplete, color- 
less, and impotent. But if Burns's grasp of leadership is inade- 
quate, one can peruse hundreds of works in search of a 
definition of leadership without finding a wholly satisfying ex- 
planation. Augustine of Hippo, the fifth century philosopher 
and Father of the Church, noted that one knows what time is 

until asked to define it. Leader- 

James H. Toner teaches international relations and military ethics at Stllp may resist definition in 

the Air War College and is the author of The Sword and the Cross: tllG S3.II1C Wciy. 

Reflections on Command and Conscience. 



98 JFQ / Spring 1996 





Toner 



leadership inspires appropriate 
conduct beyond the expectable 



Terms which have the greatest meaning for 
us — love, faith, honor, and justice — invariably 
withstand simple (or even complex) definition. 
But can one really comprehend something with- 
out being able to define it? Thus I offer this suc- 
cinct definition: leadership is the ability to inspire 
appropriate action beyond the expectable. 2 While 
this denotation is unlikely to find its way into the 
academic literature on the subject, it serves as a 
point of departure for looking at leadership. 

If some action or conduct is routine, ordi- 
nary, and predictable — that is, expectable in every 
sense — leadership is very 
likely unnecessary. It is 
in the nature of leader- 
ship to offer something 
beyond the expectable. If a 
group of people may be 
expected, for instance, to achieve a desirable out- 
come regardless of leadership, one might fairly as- 
sume that, with effective leadership, the same 
group might be able to achieve even greater 
things. Thus, leadership contributes to success on 
the margins — it is value added. One might think 
of it as yeast that has a positive catalytic effect. 

For example, the motto of the U.S. Army In- 
fantry School at Fort Benning is ''Follow Me!" It is 
an effective credo, capturing in two words the 
essence of leadership: the infantry leader, exert- 
ing the power of his own will and influence, en- 
ables a squad or platoon to do things that they 
would be unlikely to do absent his direction. But 
most of this is pretty self evident. If leaders are ef- 
fective, they get results not otherwise calculated 
in and from people. 

Most definitions of leadership contain syn- 
onyms. One thesaurus gives direction, guidance, 
instruction, administration, authority, command, 
control, domination, superiority, and supremacy, 
which are all very useful terms. But nouns dodge a 
very critical adjectival question: How do we sepa- 
rate good leadership from bad? Returning to the 
analysis offered by Burns, one finds that his dissec- 
tion of the subject (at least in the brief quotation 
cited above) is value-neutral. My definition sug- 
gests that leadership inspires: a positive, produc- 
tive influence. Another denotation, "to guide or 
control by divine influence," reveals that the in- 
finitive is intended almost exclusively to convey 
something affirmative and beneficial. While one 
might refer to Hitler as having inspired Germans in 
the 1930s, as having been charismatic (which origi- 
nally meant a spiritual or divine gift), using such 
terms in the context of Nazi Germany is wrong. 
Bennis and Nanus correctly point out that "Man- 
agers are people who do things right and leaders 
are people who do the right thing." 3 Use of the ad- 
jective right is of paramount importance. 



The definition proposed herein emphasizes 
that leaders inspire appropriate (correct, fitting, 
suitable, rightful) conduct. Leadership that pro- 
motes inappropriate (incorrect or wrongful) con- 
duct may be tyranny, despotism, or dictatorship, 
but it is not genuine leadership, which one takes 
to be a positive influence. The dictionary states 
that to lead is "to go before or with to show the 
way." One must again acknowledge that "the 
way" can be harmful — such as when gang leaders 
incite followers to violence and crime — though a 
fair reading seems to suggest something construc- 
tive as well as hopeful. Therefore leadership in- 
spires appropriate conduct beyond the expectable. 
That is, I contend, what leadership does. But if 
that is what leadership does, how does it do it? 

How Leadership Works 

Over the course of decades, military profes- 
sionals have rightly insisted that leaders inspire ap- 
propriate conduct beyond the expectable by ap- 
pealing to duty, honor, and country — and refusing 
to lie, cheat, and steal. Yet these venerable con- 
cepts, which have encouraged thousands of leaders 
to do what they ought to even in times of peril and 
crisis, are vague. Strong adjurations to virtue and 
admonitions against vice are necessarily indistinct. 
The ancient Greeks told us that exceptions to 
broad rules might sometimes have to be granted. 
Equity means fairness. Aristotle taught that equity 
could mean the rectification (correction) of the law 
when law was deficient by reason of its universal- 
ity. That is, if rules and regulations apply to every- 
one, a law might well be wrong when it applies to 
someone under certain circumstances. It is wrong 
to steal. But what of taking a loaf of bread to feed a 
starving family? Can there be mitigating or extenu- 
ating circumstances? Can the injunctions of duty, 
honor, and country always teach what we want 
them to? If soldiers, sailors, airmen, or marines in- 
scribe duty, honor, country on their hearts, will they 
lead appropriately? 

We know how critical the notion of duty 
must be to soldiers who exist — and leaders who 
lead — in order to accomplish the mission. Sol- 
diers go into harm's way — they risk life and 
limb — to get the job done. They are, properly, 
taught to say "yes sir" or "yes ma'am" when 
given an order — and to execute that order 
promptly and efficiently. At the U.S. Military 
Academy, cadets are taught to say "No excuse, 
sir" when confronted with their shortcomings. 
Results matter, and complaints are impermissible 
about why the orders or magnitude of the job 
precluded success in the assignment. "Duty," said 
Robert E. Lee, "is the sublimest word in the Eng- 
lish language." 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 99 



■ LEADERSHIP 



But we also know, since the post- World War II 
war crimes tribunals, that devotion to duty is not 
enough. Orders occasionally must be questioned. 
The notion that only the superior officer responds 
to questions of propriety is gone, as it should be. 
Every soldier is responsible for the orders that he 
or she issues — or follows. Blind obedience is 
wrong. There may well be a duty not to be dutiful. 
Duty is not the highest good of the soldier. 

Honor sometimes seems so rare that I shrink 
from writing that honor itself is not enough, for 
what is meant can be terribly mistaken. In the 
film A Few Good Men, a young Marine NCO re- 
gards unit, Corps, God, and country — one pre- 
sumes in that order — as his source of honor. The 
story presents two twisted, grotesque leaders, a 
lieutenant and a colonel, with a sense of "honor" 
that is warped beyond recognition. A twisted 
sense of honor may be worse than no honor at all. 
At the Naval Academy, midshipmen recently 
cheated on an exam and 

the highest obligation must subsequently covered up 

for one another, contend- 

be to honor, and then to duty, ing that loyalty t0 one s 

and then to countrymen buddies was higher than 

loyalty to the honor con- 
cept at Annapolis. That no- 
tion may hold sway among members of a street 
gang but cannot be allowed to take root in an in- 
stitution educating commissioned officers. Honor 
of this sort is not the highest good of the soldier. 

Country — a short term for patriotism — is a 
desirable quality to most Americans. We react 
with sorrow and anger to a traitor who sells out 
his homeland for greed and personal debauchery. 
We expect the Armed Forces to represent our 
country well. Every day soldiers don the uniform 
of the United States, and they should understand 
that wearing it is a privilege and responsibility. 
But patriotism can be carried to extremes, and 
history is replete with cases of those whose first 
loyalty to their homeland resulted in evil. Reli- 
gious people, for example, cannot value loyalty to 
country ahead of faithfulness to God. Patriotism 
is a valuable sentiment and a worthy conviction, 
but it is not the highest good of the soldier. 

But if the watchwords and creed of "duty, 
honor, country" are not enough to tell us how to 
be leaders — and which values to exalt — who do 
we consult? This is not to offer a new formula to 
West Point but to suggest, for purposes of instruc- 
tion, a new ordering of "duty, honor, country." 

Taken properly, the highest virtue of a soldier, 
and hence his leader, is honor — authentic, not 
warped. Things done in the line of duty that vio- 
late a proper awareness of honor tarnish the shield 
and disgrace the uniform. Genuine honor is based 
on integrity. As a former service chief put it, "Any 
order to compromise integrity is not a lawful 



order. Integrity is the most important responsibil- 
ity of command ." 4 Legal orders must be obeyed. 
Leaders inspire appropriate conduct. 

We try in so many ways to soften the lan- 
guage, but the soldier's job is to kill and prepare 
to kill, to die and prepare to die. The Code of 
Conduct is very clear about the ultimate obliga- 
tion of the soldier, whose very life may be put in 
danger to accomplish the mission. Officers are 
never to endanger the lives of their soldiers for 
light reasons; but never must they shrink from 
the terrible responsibility of accepting risks, even 
mortal danger, for their troops and themselves if 
necessary. The military may well be involved in 
operations other than war, but the first responsi- 
bility of the Armed Forces is to win the Nation's 
wars. When a choice must be made between 
troop safety and mission accomplishment, the 
duty of the soldier must be mission first. 

The infantry lieutenant forever has the re- 
sponsibility of pointing at one soldier and saying, 
"Smith, point man!" None but the cavalier, how- 
ever, would say such things carelessly. There must 
be no question that genuine concern for the wel- 
fare of soldiers (or patients, pupils, clients, or cus- 
tomers) is key to leadership. What the leader gives 
to followers is very likely to be returned. But for 
the military leader, concern for troops cannot re- 
place devotion to duty; and devotion to duty can- 
not replace fidelity to a high sense of honor. The 
trinity of principle , purpose , and people thus comple- 
ments the idea of honor, duty, country(men ). 5 The 
highest obligation of a soldier must be to honor, 
and then to duty, and then to countrymen. If any 
leader mistakes the proper order — putting, say, 
people ahead of principle and thus implicitly con- 
doning cheating at the Naval Academy — he or she 
cannot inspire appropriate conduct. The leader- 
ship offered will be defective and dangerous. 

But we have said that principle can be mis- 
understood. How can leaders be educated to un- 
derstand the proper order of principle (honor), 
purpose (duty), and people (countrymen)? Since 
the ancient Greeks, educators have sought to in- 
culcate wisdom and virtue into students, fre- 
quently without success. Indeed, in many if not 
most universities and colleges today, even discus- 
sion of trying to teach "wisdom and virtue" will 
terrify professors and, in particular, administra- 
tors. "You shall know the truth, and the truth 
shall make you free" has been transmuted into 
"You shall know the truth, and the truth shall 
make you flee." Whose version of "wisdom" shall 
we teach? Whose notions of "virtue" shall we in- 
culcate? In a multicultural society, does any pub- 
lic university have the right to teach "wisdom 
and virtue?" 



lOO 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



Toner 




Specific questions of campus politics can be 
left to faculties in Tuscaloosa, Ann Arbor, and 
Tempe — until graduates of those institutions pin 
on the gold bars of second lieutenant or ensign. 
Once commissioned, those young leaders must 
know how to order principle, purpose, and peo- 
ple, for there is the fountain of leadership. Per- 
sonal background, even educational experience, 
may be at odds with the views, values, and veri- 
ties which have sustained the Armed Forces for 
more than two hundred years. How are young of- 
ficers to learn the time-tested truths of military 
leadership? How are they to master what "princi- 
ple" and "honor" are about? How are they to dis- 
cover what "purpose" and "duty" really mean? 
How are they to grasp what taking care of people 
demands? Experience in the workplace or the 
streets is hardly enough. An education — at Al- 
abama, William and Mary, Holy Cross, even An- 
napolis, it seems — is not enough. This is certainly 
not to impugn any institution; nor is it anti-intel- 
lectual, intended to denigrate higher education. 
Rather, the point is that leaders today need a so- 
cialization, maturation, and seasoning beyond 
the academic expertise represented by degrees. 
That socialization process is the responsibility of 
each service. 

The Source of Integrity 

To lead well — to inspire appropriate action 
beyond the expectable — leaders must have both 
wisdom and virtue, customary products of long 
experience and worthwhile education. As obvious 



as it is, one can forget that the colonels of the fu- 
ture are the lieutenants of today. If the lieutenants 
are poorly educated, we must expect misfits and 
malcontents among colonels within a generation. 
Leaders educated by Federal service academies, 
ROTC, and OCS/OTS are likely to have the raw in- 
telligence to become — I do not say to be — good 
leaders. But they will require the seasoning, expe- 
rience, conditioning, and mentoring of their pro- 
fession in order to mature into the kinds of leaders 
the Nation wants and very much needs. 

In one word, leaders will learn virtue (and 
thus be able to inspire appropriate conduct) by 
being responsable. I have not misspelled the word 
responsible; I mean "responsable" — being able to 
respond. Leaders must know what to respond to. 
If they respond first to opportunities for success 
and advancement, they will be careerists but not 
professionals. If they misunderstand the order of 
principle, purpose, and people, they will make 
the kinds of mistakes referred to earlier. Leaders 
must be able to respond to the chief challenge of 
leadership: being technically and tactically and ethi- 
cally proficient 

It is obvious that good leaders must know 
their profession. Competence in soldierly skill is 
fundamental. But competence without character 
is an invitation only to masterful despotism. And 
character consists in "responsability" — that is, 
being able to respond to challenge and crisis in a 
manner based on integrity. Here we have at last 
come to the chief difficulty in almost all writing 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 101 



U.S. Marine Corps (R.J. Pixler) 




■ LEADERSHIP 




as vital as honor is, another 
concept of compelling 
importance is shame 



on the ethics of leadership. It requires little study, 
after all, to say that good leaders are men and 
women of integrity. But what is integrity? I offer 
the simple definition that it is "responsability." 
Those with integrity respond to crisis and chal- 
lenge as their profession would urge. In moments 
of indecision, leaders with in- 
tegrity respond to the silent 
promptings and the unspoken 
guidance of those who have 
gone before; in moral and 
military emergency, leaders 
find unvoiced counsel in the 
history of their services and biographies of the 
champions of yesteryear. 

Leaders are never alone. They walk in the 
shadow of great lieutenants. Each service has rites 
and rituals, trappings and traditions, customs and 
conventions, that disclose volumes on what is 
done and must be done, what is not done and must 
never be done. Leaders soon perpetuate a commu- 
nity of service. Those who went before — and 
served well and nobly — admonish, instruct, and 
counsel young leaders who are prudent enough to 
listen. Heroic murals and statues, customs, uni- 
forms, and reveille and taps — all these things faith- 
fully teach new leaders that they have entered a 



profession. In making decisions, leaders are re- 
sponding not just to present circumstances but to 
standards set in the past, and aspirations and op- 
portunities of the future. As professionals, leaders 
profess faith in comrades. They are responsable — 
that is, able to respond — to those comrades. 

Alasdair MacIntyre of Notre Dame, perhaps 
our foremost moral philosopher, observed that "I 
inherit from the past of my family, my city, my 
tribe, my nation, a variety of debts, inheritances, 
rightful expectations, and obligations. These con- 
stitute the given of my life, my moral starting 
point. This is in part what gives my life its own 
moral particularity ." 6 It is this inheritance, this 
sense of community, from which we derive a 
sense of purpose and ethical orientation. It is to 
this feeling of oneness, bonding, and confrater- 
nity that we are responsable. This brotherhood is 
found in Paul's letter to the Romans: "What I 
wish is that we may be mutually encouraged by 
our common faith." That feeling was described by 
Walter Lippmann when he wrote that there is a 
sense of community which, "though so insub- 
stantial to our senses binds, in Burke's words, a 
man to his country with 'ties which though light 
as air, are as strong as links of iron.' That is why 
young men die in battle for their country's sake 
and why old men plant trees they will never sit 
under ." 7 In his farewell at West Point, Douglas 
MacArthur made much the same point: "The 
long, gray line has never failed us. Were you to do 
so, a million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki, 
in blue and gray would rise from their white 
crosses. . . ." 8 

A simple definition of integrity tells us that it 
means "the quality or state of being complete; 
unbroken condition; wholeness; entirety." In the 
sense that an integer is a whole number and not a 
fraction, integrity suggests community. Young 
leaders who absorb the sense of wholeness and of 
tradition and of common faith which writers 
from Paul of Tarsus to Lippmann and MacArthur 
have believed and taught thus ground their moral 
educations in virtue; they begin to know how to 
order appropriate conduct and how to conduct 
themselves wisely. 

As vital as honor is, another concept of com- 
pelling importance is shame, the feeling that by 
inappropriate words and actions, one has disap- 
pointed the best of his community. Shame is the 
belief that, by failure of moral or physical 
courage, one has proven unworthy of the tradi- 
tion he or she is expected to uphold and exalt. 
The shamed one is thus unable to look profes- 
sional colleagues squarely in the eye and implic- 
itly say, "I took this action because, in my best 



102 



JFQ / Spring 1996 




Toner 



judgment, it was right." Actions and words that 
produce shame are ordinarily wrong. They de- 
stroy the wholeness (past, present, future) of a 
profession and devastate the bonding, commu- 
nity, and sense of unity of those whose deeds 
built the integrity of that profession. 

Integrity, then, is about wholeness and com- 
munity and having sufficient piety and decency 
to know when one ought to be ashamed of be- 
traying it. Every leadership decision but the most 
mundane involves ethical judgment. Therefore, 
every significant leadership decision is potentially 
"transforming," leadership that occurs when we 
“engage with others in such a way that leaders 
and followers raise one another to higher levels of 
motivation and morality ." 9 Good leaders do not 
simply want their followers to do something; good 
leaders want their followers to be somebody. The 
repetition of appropriate action develops the 
kinds of habits which help us act as we should. In 
doing the right thing, leaders set examples, build 
purposeful organizations, create and enhance 
community, inculcate virtue because they are 
wise, and are wise because they are virtuous. 
"Good leaders," Malham Wakin observed, "are 
good teachers ." 10 Teachers do more than transmit 
ideas; they practice a kind of transforming leader- 
ship, educating students, soldiers, and patients. 
Good leaders show their subordinates "the way." 

James Bond Stockdale, a prisoner of war in 
Vietnam for eight years, contends that good lead- 
ers "need to be moralists — not just poseurs who . . . 
exhort men to be good, but thinkers who elucidate 
what the good is. This requires first and foremost a 
clear idea of right and wrong and the integrity to 
stand behind your assessment of any situation ." 11 
Good ethics must be taught by good leaders; and 
good ethics is caught from good leaders who inspire 
appropriate conduct beyond the expectable. Lead- 
ers learn from the past, are responsible in the pre- 
sent, and plan for the future. They know their prin- 
ciples, purposes, and people; and their sense of 
community and their pride of profession endow 
their actions and orders with mature judgment. In 
such mature, settled judgment will be found the 
union of leadership and virtue, of effective com- 
mand and wise conscience. JFQ 



NOTES 

1 In a book by the same name (New York: Harper Col- 
ophon, 1978), Burns defines leadership as "inducing fol- 
lowers to act for certain goals that represent the values and 
the motivations . . . of both leaders and followers” (p. 19). 

2 James H. Toner, The Sword and the Cross (New York: 
Praeger, 1992), p. 49; and The American Military Ethic 
(New York: Praeger, 1992), p. 54. 

3 Warren Bennis and Burt Nanus, Leaders: The Strate- 
gists for Taking Charge (New York: Harper and Row, 1985), 
p. 21. But their next sentence totally misses the point: 
"The difference may be summarized as activities of vi- 
sion and judgment — effectiveness versus . . . efficiency." 

4 John D. Ryan, quoted in War ; Morality ; and the Mil- 
itary Profession , 2 d ed., edited by Malham Wakin (Boul- 
der, Colo.: Westview Press, 1986), p. 180. 

5 See my book True Faith and Allegiance: The Burden 
of Military Ethics (Lexington: The University Press of 
Kentucky, 1995), chapter 4, for more detail. 

6 Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue , 2 d ed. (Notre Dame, 
Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1982), p. 220. 

7 Walter Lippmann, Essays in the Public Philosophy 
(Boston: Little, Brown, 1955), p. 36. 

8 "Duty, Honor, and Country," Vital Speeches of the 
Day , vol. 28, no. 17 (June 15, 1962), p. 520. The power 
of this valedictory is not denied; but "duty, honor, 
country," though valuable and venerable as rhetoric, is 
not an amulet that guarantees good leadership. 

9 Burns, Leadership , p. 20. His other type of leader- 
ship is "transactional," which means "one person 
tak[ing] the initiative in making contact with others for 
the purpose of an exchange of valued things." 

10 Malham W. Wakin, "Foreword," in Military Leader- 
ship: In Pursuit of Excellence, edited by R. L. Taylor and W. E. 
Rosenbach (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1984), p. xiv. 

11 See James Bond Stockdale, "Educating Leaders," in 
Military Leadership: In Pursuit of Excellence, edited by R. 
L. Taylor and W. E. Rosenbach (Boulder, Colo.: West- 
view Press, 1984), p. 67. See also Roger H. Nye, The 
Challenge of Command (Wayne, N.J.: Avery, 1986). 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 103 




BRILLIANT 



Warriors 

By J AY W. KELLEY 



There is little doubt that military education 
is an important complement to military 
training. But while everyone would agree 
on the value of both training and education 
to the Armed Forces, just how much profes- 
sional military education (PME) a warrior 
needs, its form and timing, and the impact 
of information technology on what is 
taught is open to debate. This article seeks 
to animate and encourage that exchange. 

One thing is certainly undebatable: people 
are the most critical element in the military. They 
must fight our wars. Technology provides the 
tools to fight, and training enables a warrior to 
use them to his best advantage. And 
the purpose of PME is to leverage 
the most powerful factor in the 
warfighting equation: the human 
mind. Our training institutions and 
their capabilities are superior. Train- 
ing has repeatedly reengineered it- 
self to take account of advances in 
information technology, simula- 
tion, and discoveries about how 
mature students learn best. It is 
challenging, experiential, and sometimes fun. But 
PME has not even kept abreast of improvements 
in training, let alone with needs of national mili- 
tary strategy. 

Unless PME better prepares warriors, our best 
training may be wasted. To understand the 
changes that must be made in PME, we must dif- 
ferentiate between training and education. 



If we should have to fight ; 
we should be prepared to 
do so from the neck up, 
instead of from the neck 
down. 

— Jimmy Doolittle 



Lieutenant General Jay W. Kelley, USAF, is commander of Air University 
and previously served as vice commander of Air Force Space Command. 




Training and Education 

Military training and PME do not aim at pro- 
viding jobs or adventures. They are necessary for 
success in warfare. Training creates competence 
in using machines or tools required for tasks. It is 
about teaching things that are known and using 
things that operate mechanically, electrically, or 
somewhat predictably. Education, on the other 
hand, aims at teaching intellectual constructs and 
appropriate principles so that the right tools are 
available and can be selected to achieve a desired 
effect. It is about learning whatever we do not 
know but envision we must know to survive and 
succeed. Said another way, training teaches the 
archer how to use the bow and arrow — how to 
aim the right arrow at the right bulPs-eye. Educa- 
tion ensures that the archer also sees the value of 
gunpowder as an improvement over archery. The 
test of training is competence in environments 
that exist now and are understood. The test of ed- 
ucation is success in different environments that 
are perhaps not fully understood. 

Over the last several years, Air University has 
engaged in studies of the future. Spacecast 2020 is 
being followed by Air Force 2025, which is being 
conducted at the direction of the chief of staff, 



104 JFQ / Spring 1996 



U.S. Air Force (Ken Wright) 




U.S. Air Force. The latter study examines the air 
and space capabilities that the Nation will need, 
systems and technologies that might contribute 

to them, and con- 

the test of education is success in cepts of operations 
environments that are perhaps not for best u ^!! 1 f ing 

r r new capabilities, 

fully understood Closely related are 

DOD studies and 
seminar wargames that explore the revolution in 
military affairs (RMA). Each service and the Joint 
Staff are looking into the future to understand 
the operating environments that the Armed 
Forces might face. 

Alternate Futures 

Moving into the future, Carl Builder has re- 
minded us, is like driving into fog. 1 Turning on the 
high beams to see specific objects only illuminates 
the fog more brightly. To make out shapes requires 
lower beams, peripheral vision, and the ability to 
observe relationships between shapes, the road 
ahead, and the means of illumination. It also re- 
quires making implicit assumptions about what is 
perceived explicit and then challenging them. The 
first thing one sees, to pursue Builder's analogy, is 
that there is more than one future visible in the 
fog. Each alternate future is internally consistent, 
often equally plausible, and could actually be the 
future. Some are benign while others are arduous. 
Combined, they delimit strategic planning, iden- 
tify risks, and suggest challenges and opportuni- 
ties that may lie ahead. Alternate futures are de- 
scriptive, and not predictive or normative. They 
are planning stories or scenarios. Aware of these al- 
ternatives, planners can ignore any or all. The ob- 
jective is to clarify the shapes in the fog to reduce 
surprise and risk for decisionmakers. 

Alternate futures need not be precisely right, 
just plausible and approximately right. This is 
preferable to stumbling along in the dark or 
clinging to the present and ultimately being ill- 
prepared for the unexpected. While a creative 
process, generating alternate futures is rigorous 
and exacting. Just as we know the past by infer- 
ence, we can gain similar insight into futures. 
Businesses spawn alternate futures at great ex- 
pense because they pay off. Failing to look ahead 
might lead to missing new customers or losing 
their market share. Militaries that do not look 
ahead may lose nations. 

There are other methods for looking ahead 
besides alternate futures, some better than others. 
But all have a common objective: to provide in- 
sights into tomorrow so that our present actions 
can prepare us. Thus, the task is to look ahead, 
describe the operating environment, delineate 
the skills it may demand, and postulate actions 
likely to produce the desired results. 2 



Some things are common to all futures. Sim- 
ply put, soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen of 
2020 must become as "brilliant" as their tools. For 
example, the Army mobile digitized Force XXI and 
the Marine Corps initiative Sea Dragon — or what- 
ever they become on the way to the far future — 
can only be understood or prosecuted by thor- 
oughly trained and superbly educated forces. 
Given the distinct possibility that nontraditional 
missions will increase, and that the Armed Forces 
are not likely to grow in size, the education and 
training hurdles that we face are immense. 

What should planners study to enable them 
to devise simultaneous strikes on 5,000 targets 
with precision-guided munitions? What sort of 
education will prepare combatants to deploy 
from CONUS to link up with coalition forces to 
fight within twelve hours? How does one train 
marines to fight brush fires in California one 
week and survive firefights in combat the next? 

The Environment 

Studies indicate that the operating environ- 
ment of the far future probably will include five 
attributes important to those who are planning 
military training and PME today. 

Humans will still fight. Combat can occur any- 
where from the earth's surface to cislunar space. It 
can break out in environments ranging from jun- 
gle to polar ice, from cities to orbital heights. It can 
involve national armies, irregular forces, terrorist 
groups, or organized crime. And even though na- 
tion-states will not wither away, they may have 
more powerful competitors in the future. 

The military will be smaller. Capabilities will be 
more tightly integrated: speed, precision, and the 
expertise to operate in ambiguous circumstances 
will become treasured operational values. Cost will 
be as important as capability in organizing, train- 
ing, and equipping this force. 3 A cadre of nearly 
transcendent professionals — but not six-million 
dollar men or robocops — will constitute the force. 
The services probably will not be merged, and nei- 
ther a space nor information corps is likely to be 
created. We will still need the means to develop 
experts in land, sea, and air and space warfare — in- 
cluding information operations that cut across all 
combat media. This force will work together with 
many members of the interagency community as 
well as contractors. All elements of this future 
force must understand their contributions and 
how other contributors are integrated to meet the 
objective. Knowing how one's own part of this 
force functions will not be good enough; one must 
know how others work too. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 105 



■ BRILLIANT WARRIORS 



M-1 main battle tanks. 




F— 117 Stealth fighter. 



The standard for this 
force will be its ability to 
make rapid precision 
strikes, both physical and 
electronic-photonic, and 
operate in situations of 
high ambiguity. Precision and engagement speed 
(strikes and restrikes) will compensate for smaller 
forces. Events will unfold so rapidly that time and 
timing become critical. The ability to act rapidly 
over great distances with a minimum of casualties 
or damage (including harm to the ecosystem), 
then withdraw or terminate quickly, may deter 
potential adversaries. 

There will be myriad interactive smart machines. 
The explosion in information technology, accord- 
ing to Carl Builder, is the key 
disturber of our time. "Brilliant" 
systems — many small 



-are in- 
escapable consequences of an 
eruption in computing power as 
well as information technologies. 

Microchips could turn up in al- 
most anything by the middle of 
the next century, which would make "dumb" 
things smarter. Microchips communicating with a 
central processing unit will constitute a smart net- 
work. And when smart networks communicate, 
almost brain-like systems will emerge. Admiral 
William Owens and others have referred to such 
an occurrence as a coming "system of systems." In 
thirty years intelligence will be embedded in most 
things, many interacting with humans. Thus it is 
likely that the Armed Forces could ultimately be- 
come an "organism of organisms." 

Coalitions will be the norm. Technology and a 
common dedication to improving quality of life 
will combine to shrink the planet and harmonize 



If you tell me, I'll listen. 

If you show me, I'll see. 

If I experience it, I'll learn. 

— Lao Tze 



interests without a loss of cultural or national 
identity. Electronic linkages among economies, 
increased leisure and business travel, and ease of 
interpersonal contacts will facilitate greater coop- 
eration. Threats to one global partner will imperil 
others more than today. Yet military-to-military 
exchanges, coalition training exercises, and actual 
operations will link allied warriors and promote a 
kindred spirit among them. We should preserve 
the capability to act unilaterally, but — like it or 
not — coalition operations will be the norm. 

Tomorrow's subordinates and leaders will be dif- 
ferent. The same genetic material will be influ- 
enced by a vastly different environment. By early 
in the next century both leaders and the led may 
appear as different from our perspective as those 
of 1965 appear to us now. 

By 2025 we will have been 
joint for nearly fifty years, and 
the speed bumps of today will 
have been flattened. The demo- 
graphic composition of Con- 
gress will be different. Whereas 
less than 40 percent of current 
members have served in the Armed Forces, the 
percentage may be much smaller over next thirty 
years. A significant aspect of continuity is that 
the military will obey the President, respect the 
Constitution, and operate under the control of 
civilian authority. 

Determining the Output 

Given the likely attributes of the future envi- 
ronment, we must examine the desired output as 
a prelude to describing the input and the contri- 
bution of training and education. What skills and 



106 JFQ / Spring 1996 



U.S. Marine Corps 




actions are needed in a world with these attrib- 
utes? In the most compressed terms possible, edu- 
cation must help military professionals acquire a 
variety of knowledge, skills, and attitudes. 

A constantly improving understanding of human 
motives and interpersonal skills necessary to achieve 
cooperation. In other words, the essence of leader- 
ship may be perceiving what makes people tick. 
Understanding how human beings of different 
backgrounds and cul- 
tures (or services) act in 
different circumstances 
is integral to under- 
standing the sources 
and nature of coopera- 
tion, friction, and con- 
flict among people. Military professionals in the 
far future must learn more about leadership and 
human behavior — their own as well as that of 
their subordinates and adversaries. 

A strong commitment to right conduct that al- 
most invariably results in right behavior. Note the 
qualifier "almost." Because human nature will not 
change, and freedom to choose is important, there 
will be misconduct and mistakes in spite of our 
best efforts. In thirty years democracy will evolve, 
but it will remain based on a passion for individual 
liberty and the belief that people ought to respect 
the rule of law. As public servants in a society that 
cherishes a free press, we will come under closer 
scrutiny than today. Erosion of public support 
may be worse than defeat in battle. Education can 
provide confident assurance of virtue, right con- 
duct, and fidelity to core values. 

The eagerness to discover new tools , the ability to 
find inventive uses for existing tools , the initiative to in- 
novate , and the ability to know — as well as the willing- 
ness to take — acceptable risks. The tools and ma- 
chines available for everything, including fighting, 
may be as numerous in the far future as they are 
marvelous. Comparing technologies of 1965 with 
those of today, space systems (except for spacelift), 
stealth, and sensor improvements stand out as ini- 
tially military innovations. Strong advances in in- 
formation, biochemistry, and medicine were devel- 
oped by the private sector. Yet warriors of 1996- 
2025 must have the knowledge and incentive to 
identify and select emerging developments that 
can enable dominant military capability: basic sci- 
ence (chemistry and physics), pharmaceuticals, 
electronics, air and space, and information tech- 
nology. We need to know more about space opera- 
tions since our quality of life and success in battle 
will increasingly rely on them. 

Certainly areas of technical competence that 
training must provide will be more numerous, but 



military professionals in the far 
future must learn more about 
leadership and human behavior 



education aims at big constructs acquired in com- 
plicated ways. Knowing the environment and the 
desired output, what then is the input? The Presi- 
dent of 2025 may be attending high school at pre- 
sent. The Chairman and service chiefs of the far 
future are cadets or midshipmen, lieutenants or 
captains today. The environment and experiences 
which form them will be significantly different. 
We thus begin with a different input: different 
people with a different orientation. 

The 13 th Generation 

Differences in this generation are marked. 4 
They are the first to grow up with television and 
mature with computers, video games, and 
portable communications devices. They are fitter 
and healthier and destined to live longer. They 
care for the planet and the environment. They 
have experienced more (earlier) than previous 
generations. They demand stimulation, excite- 
ment, and fast paces in their lives. They seek di- 
versity. They will enter the Armed Forces for chal- 
lenges and responsibilities unavailable elsewhere. 
What should PME offer these leaders of the next 
century? 

One answer is to ignore their differences and 
force them into the mold of traditional PME; an 
environment, John Warden once said, in which 
"Socrates would be comfortable." However, they 
will come to our hallowed halls already trained 
and will expect no less challenge in education. 
The traditional approach is not likely to work. 
Rather, PME must come at the right time, offer 
the right experience, point to the right informa- 
tion, provide a nearly risk-free laboratory to inno- 
vate, apply technology to unusual conditions, 
make connections, and reach conclusions that 
can be tested. If we can envision alternate futures, 
we can employ technology to create them as vir- 
tual realities. If we can use technology to teach 
students to operate in them, we can prepare them 
to cope with the real future. The role of tomor- 
row's professional military educator is thus more 
important, not less. Those responsible must, in 
short, prepare each of their charges to be a "bril- 
liant warrior." 

Brilliant means training and educating peo- 
ple committed to the warrior ethic in such a way 
that by 2025, compared to today, they will be 
smart, adept, agile, savvy — professional warriors. 
They should have the attributes to survive, suc- 
ceed, and lead others in whatever future presents 
itself. They must be lifelong learners, thinkers, and 
prudent risk-takers. Our gift to them will be a PME 
system that forces them to think, encourages them 
to learn how to learn, and gives them the confi- 
dence to perform in new operating environments. 

Remember that there will be fewer warriors 
in the future and that cost will rival capability as 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 107 



■ BRILL 



ANT WARRIORS 



a criterion for organizing, training, and equipping 
them. Two standards for evaluating PME are effec- 
tiveness — when the desired knowledge is achieved 
and right actions result — and cost — when the 
highest value is acquired and best return on an 
investment occurs. Both must be applied with an 
awareness of the changes that will unfold natu- 
rally between now and the far future. The debate 
has begun, now it must be enlivened. 

Forming Brilliant Warriors 

Alternatives for meeting specific knowledge 
and behavioral objectives are many. Choosing 
will define their characteristics; but a PME system 
must also choose its general characteristics. The 
process of choosing is difficult: there are public 
laws to be satisfied; the Joint Staff is involved; 
and services, training commands, and using com- 
mands participate. Strategy reviews, force struc- 
ture, roles and missions commissions, and new 
legislation will also affect choices. 

As the Armed Forces integrate and the de- 
fense establishment shrinks, there will be efforts 
to reduce infrastructure costs and investment. 
Today, each service has both a command and 
staff and a war college. Tomorrow, service compe- 
tencies may be taught by robust departments on 
one campus — a move that the British are making. 

Another alternative is 
to combine all the in- 
termediate and senior 
colleges into one school 
for each service and 
transform the National 
Defense University into 
a PME institution for general/flag officers. Cur- 
rently, warriors are likely to attend both staff and 
war college, spending twenty or more months in 
residence. Tomorrow, resident study may be 
much briefer. Today, selection for resident PME is 
the responsibility of the services. Tomorrow, joint 
selection boards may identify officers for school- 
ing. 

At present PME is technology-poor. In the fu- 
ture, and if the private sector is encouraged, it 
could have powerful technologies which could 
create different virtual realities and use resident 
PME as the crucible for learning experiences that 
may not be duplicated in or provided to the field . 5 
For example, we might want a warrior to experi- 
ence operating in a known environment such as 
Somalia or Bosnia. But we may also want to create 
a less certain or future environment. 

PME is discontinuous and episodic. Resident 
and non-resident programs in the future may find 
warriors engaged in a deliberate life-long learning 



if we fail to adapt and innovate, 
we are not fit to be leaders, let 
alone educators 



process. Whereas today many civilians at PME in- 
stitutions may have tenure, tomorrow they may 
be contract employees, visiting scholars, and for- 
mer warriors. Today, curricula are built around 
Clausewitz, Mahan, and the great captains. To- 
morrow, curricula may provide stressful experi- 
ences in virtually real leadership situations and use 
joint doctrine and combined arms in coalition 
wargames, along with instruction on ethics and 
area studies. Envisioning, creating, and teaching 
such curricula requires competent educators. 

These and other challenges await us all: Con- 
gress, special commissions, the Office of the Sec- 
retary of Defense, Joint Staff, unified commands, 
services, training and education commands, and 
troops. Those with responsibility for PME should 
remember Ervin Rokke's tongue-in-cheek chal- 
lenge: "As academies, we will advise others to 
change but will likely ensure that revolutionary 
change takes place most slowly within our own 
organization ." 6 This will not suffice. If we fail to 
adapt and innovate, we are not fit to be leaders, 
let alone educators. 

Characteristics of PME 

Even as general characteristics of a system to 
produce brilliant warriors are being chosen, spe- 
cific choices must be made. These elements, like 
the general ones, must satisfy certain criteria. I 
proposed effectiveness and cost. The aim is to 
bring the powerful learning experiences of life, 
leadership, and warfare to PME. Experience may 
remain the best teacher. Given such objectives, 
what are the alternatives? The answers are hy- 
potheses which should be tested and debated. 

A constantly improving understanding of human 
motivation and interpersonal skills is necessary to 
achieve cooperation to attain the desired objective or 
effect 

■ more psychology, anthropology, or social science? 

■ interactive learning with artificial intelligence as 
a tutor or more classroom teachers? 

■ virtual reality systems that allow the student to 
live in future environments? 

■ more role-playing, case studies, biography? 

■ increased international officer and civilian en- 
rollment? 

■ more theoretical models to study and evaluate? 

■ more virtual travel or military-to-military ex- 
changes? 

■ studies of mathematics and chaos theory? 

■ multidisciplinary teaching teams? 

■ more history or less? 

Educating brilliant warriors requires that dis- 
tance learning expose the leaders to continuous 
PME. Yet even distance learning must be tiered so 
that everyone receives a customized curriculum 



108 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



Kelley 



USS Independence. 




with more eager students receiving a more chal- 
lenging course of studies. Some warriors, al- 
though in PME, may remain at the "mainte- 
nance" level for their entire careers. Only those 
demonstrating command potential will attend 
resident PME. It need not last a year or occur at 
traditional sites. It could be a series of short resi- 
dent learning opportunities. These would aim to 
provide experiences that distance learning can- 
not. Foremost among them is performing in 
stressful circumstances of alternate futures. Thus, 
resident PME must begin to offer a more experi- 
ential curriculum that bears on conflict, human 
relations, and military leadership. Knowledge is 
about making connections and choices, so the 
approach must be multidisciplinary and multicul- 
tural. More international officers and civilians 
must participate. One sort of learning opportu- 
nity in residence for air officers might focus on 
joint and coalition air and space operations in an 
alternate future environment. A different type for 
naval officers would allow them to experience 
that operational environment. These PME learn- 
ing opportunities might occur several times a 
year between the 10- and 15-year point in their 



careers — some intentionally on short notice — to 
prepare the warrior for senior command and staff 
responsibilities. Exceptionally well qualified offi- 
cers, as indicated by their selection for general or 
flag rank, would go on to a National Defense Uni- 
versity of the future just past the 20-year point. 

A strong commitment to right conduct that al- 
most invariably results in right behavior. 

■ more ethics education or less? 

■ deeper study into the American system of gov- 
ernment? 

■ a curriculum requiring difficult personal resource 
allocation choices? 

■ placing students in alternate future environ- 
ments with high ambiguity and uncertainty? 

■ more health and fitness activities or less? 

■ more, fewer, or no seminars? 

■ more or less reading and writing? 

■ more personal mentoring or less? 

Richard Kohn of the University of North 
Carolina and others have expressed concern over 
the current state of civil-military relations in this 
country. 7 For America to maintain its position in 
the world, our leaders must appreciate national 
ideals, how government and decisionmaking 
work, and the Constitution. Moreover, they must 
be educated in the core values of their services as 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 109 



U.S. Navy ( Independence Photo Lab) 



■ BRILLIANT WARRIORS 



well as professional ethics. It is on these founda- 
tions that distance learning in the next 5 to 10 
years ought to be built, since civilian institutions 
may not sufficiently emphasize them for warriors. 
In any event, education must broaden awareness 
of possible future challenges, and technology 
could allow warriors to experience them by per- 
forming in virtually real futuristic environments. 

The eagerness to discover new tools , the ability 
to think creatively of new uses for existing tools , the 
initiative to innovate, and the ability to know — and 
willingness to take — acceptable risks. 

■ a wargame, research, or book-centered curricu- 
lum? 

■ more studies on the relationships between tech- 
nology and war or less? 

■ formal education and experience in creative 
thinking? 

■ formal education in logic, rhetoric, and critical 
thinking? 

■ a mandated or self-selected curriculum? 

■ opportunities to experiment with and fight dif- 
ferent force structures? 

■ formal education in operations research and op- 
erations analysis? 

■ more emphasis on the sources of conflict and 
change or less? 

Brilliant warriors must be critical thinkers. 
I.B. Holley of Duke University has identified the 
lack of education in critical thinking as a serious 
shortfall in today's PME curricula. Such skills are 
enhanced by a curriculum that emphasizes re- 
search. The French use a research-centered model 
in senior joint PME. Research into the past may be 
less germane to brilliant warriors than creative 
and disciplined thinking about the future, al- 
though studying the past warns us against repeat- 
ing its mistakes. More and better wargames (in- 
cluding analytical ones) are needed to bolster 
curricula to improve critical and creative thinking. 
The study of joint matters — of the JOPES variety — 
which is not educational, does not require critical 
thinking, and clutters senior PME curricula today, 
would fill the 10- to 15 -year interval of continu- 
ous distance learning. Readings and interactive 
discourse in strategy and history, making use of 
advanced distance learning, would offer basic dis- 
cernment for warriors who lead warriors. Perfor- 
mance in distance learning programs should be a 
factor in selection for resident PME. 



As critical components of national security 
strategy, military training and PME intersect the in- 
terests of three of our most conservative institu- 
tions: the military, academe, and the bureaucracy. 
These institutions are not so much adverse to 
change as they are slow to change and quick to re- 
sist unnecessary change. We have the brilliant edu- 
cators to help produce brilliant warriors, but we 
lack a vision of where we want PME to go and what 
we want it to be. While classrooms may be wired 
and students may be issued laptops, these develop- 
ments could be little more than natural, although 
unimaginative, improvements without vision. 

There is no time like the present to begin 
thinking and debating changes necessary to keep 
PME relevant and valuable. The future, whatever 
it proves to be, will be our measure. Unless we act 
now, thinking about the future will become so 
much intellectual arm-waving. We will not have 
brilliant warriors to face tomorrow unless we pre- 
pare today. This discussion suggests some ways, 
but they are not the only ones. We cannot dodge 
the obligation to choose: PME will change. That 
being the case, we must choose wisely. JFQ 



NOTES 

1 Carl Builder, "Guns or Butter: The Twilight of a 
Tradeoff?" paper presented to the Air University National 
Security Forum, Maxwell Air Force Base, May 1995. 

2 Richard C. Chilcoat, "The 'Fourth' Army War Col- 
lege: Preparing Strategic Leaders for the Next Century," 
Parameters, vol. 25, no. 4 (Winter 1995-96), pp. 3-17. 

3 Gene McCall et al., New World Vistas: Air and Space 
Power for the 21 st Century, summary volume (Washington: 
U.S. Air Force Scientific Advisory Board, 1995), pp. 4-5. 

4 Neil Howe and William Strauss, "The New Genera- 
tion Gap," The Atlantic, vol. 270, no. 6 (December 
1992), pp. 67-89. 

5 Nicholas Negroponte, Being Digital (New York: Vin- 
tage Books, 1995), pp. 116-28. 

6 Conference Report: Professional Military Education and 
the Emerging Revolution in Military Affairs, SAIC docu- 
ment 95-6956, May 22-23, 1995. 

7 Richard H. Kohn, "Out of Control: The Crisis in 
Civil-Military Relations," The National Interest, no. 35 
(Spring 1994), pp. 3-17. 



TIO JFQ / Spring 1996 




Beneath the rule of men entirely great 
the pen is mightier than the sword. 

— Lord Lytton 



Research, Writing, 
and the Mind of 
the Strategist 



By GREGORY D. FOSTER 



I s the pen truly mightier than the 
sword, or are these timeless words 
mere hyperbole? The pen and the 
sword are literal instruments for 
dealing with the world around us. But 
they also are metaphors for shaping our 
actions by brain or brawn, wit or muscle. 

Whether one chooses pen or sword 
may depend on whether one believes 
knowledge is power. That belief, in turn, 
may hinge on how knowledge is de- 
fined and power understood. Can the 
expression of ideas move others as 
swiftly, as effectively, as permanently as 
the use of force or the lure of riches? 
Does truth — or simply the command of 
ideas — provide leverage over others? Are 
ideas weapons? Conversely, can force 
inspire and persuade or only coerce? 

If strategy is ultimately about ef- 
fectively exercising power, the answers 
to these questions may convey a good 
deal about our faculty to think strategi- 
cally; and that ability, especially among 
military officers, may reveal even more 
about the future of the U.S. military 
and America's place in the world. Based 
on recent events, there is ample ground 
to conclude that our ability simply to 



cope with — much less shape — a future 
of pronounced complexity, uncer- 
tainty, and turbulence will depend in 
large measure on the prevalence of 
strategic thinkers in our midst. 

Ideas and the ability to generate 
them seem increasingly likely, in fact, 
to be more important than weapons, 
economic potential, diplomatic acu- 
men, or technological advantage in de- 
termining who exercises global leader- 
ship and enjoys superpower status. 
Thus it is imperative to develop, nur- 
ture, and engage strategic thinkers at 
all levels — critical, creative, broad- 
gauged visionaries with the intellect to 

strategic thinkers are broadly 
educated, not narrowly trained 

dissect the status quo, grasp the big 
picture, discern important relation- 
ships among events, generate imagina- 
tive possibilities for action, and oper- 
ate easily in the conceptual realm. 

Almost by definition, strategic 
thinkers are broadly educated, not 
narrowly trained. They seek not sim- 
ply direction but to grapple with the 
underlying ques- 
tions of whether, 
why, and what if. 



A broad-based education expands — 
and fuels the self-guided growth of — 
one's horizons. It develops the intel- 
lect and inculcates the spirit of in- 
quiry for a lifelong pursuit of learning. 
The measure of education, far from 
being the level or even the sum 
of formal schooling, rests more 
in the degree of open-minded- 
ness and active mental engage- 
ment it engenders. 

Any institution that relies 
on professionals for success and 
seeks to maintain an authentic 
learning climate for individual 
growth must require its members 
to read (to gain knowledge and 
insight), discuss (to appreciate 
opposing views and subject their 
own to rigorous debate), investi- 
gate (to learn how to ask good 
questions and find defensible an- 
swers), and write (to structure 
thoughts and articulate them 
clearly and coherently). 

The only military enterprise actu- 
ally designed with education in mind is 
the senior level of professional military 
education (PME). Since PME is primar- 
ily oriented to training, and since the 
pressure to dilute education with prac- 
tical training is always present, there 
are several things worth noting about 
officers who attend war colleges. First, 
they are successful and able profession- 
als by military standards. Their fifteen 
or more years of service have demon- 
strated that they are mission-oriented 
and get things done. Most arrive pre- 
pared to engage in discussion, even 
though they may find themselves 
immersed in a climate of candor 
largely alien to them. Many come 
prepared to read, something they 
may have regarded as a luxury in 
past assignments. Some arrive ready to 
write. But few are really equipped to do 
research, which they see as too acade- 
mic. They have succeeded thus far 
without it and don't expect to do it in 
the future, especially as they attain 
higher rank. Finally, they see them- 
selves as real-world decisionmakers 
who act, not scholars who ponder. 




Gregory D. Foster teaches political science and sociology at 
the Industrial College of the Armed Forces where he has held 
the J. Carlton Ward distinguished professorship. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 111 



commenta: 




commentary 



■ mind of the strategist 



What do these observations sug- 
gest about the military as an institu- 
tion? On the one hand war college stu- 
dents, although a special and relatively 
small segment of the officer corps, are 
entirely representative of their profes- 
sion. They have attitudes and beliefs 
that mirror prevailing military culture. 
They also form the pool from which 
tomorrow's generals and admirals will 
be selected. As such, their views will 
have a major impact on the dominant 
military ethos. What is important to 
them is what will be important to the 
military as an institution. What they 
think led to their success is what the 
institution will emphasize in preparing 
their successors. 

War college students provide clear 
evidence that the military places little 
stock in serious, expository writing — 
much less in research. These officers 
are the cream of the crop. Some write 
well; most do not — although they 
think they do. Some show an affinity 
for research; most do not and generally 
see no reason they should. They are 
victims of a system that prizes decid- 
edly non-objective advocacy, adheres 
to stultifyingly routine staff proce- 
dures, and relies on rigid protocols for 
transmitting the written word. Taken 
in combination and over time, such 
practices breed habits that are largely 
antithetical to sound research and 
good writing. 

Even conceding such conditions, 
the question remains: Should the mili- 
tary be producing academic eggheads? 
Certainly not. But it should be produc- 
ing strategic decisionmakers, planners, 
and advisers whose expertise is defined 
less by narrow knowledge and arcane 
technical and operational detail, less 
by dutiful obedience to authority, than 
by a sophisticated grasp of complex is- 
sues and a capacity to influence major 
events. That is where research and 
writing — and the requisite intellectual 
disposition and discipline to do 
them — come into play. 

Eyes and Ears of the Mind 

What is research? The answer, less 
obvious than one might suppose, is crit- 
ical to establishing the utility of the en- 
terprise. Is research navigating through 



dusty archives or looking for obscure 
texts? Is it conducting controlled exper- 
iments in a sterile laboratory? Is it 
meticulously observing and document- 
ing human behavior? It could, of 
course, be any or all of these things; but 
it need not be — and in fact, in the sense 
intended here, it generally isn't. 

In simple terms, research is sub- 
stantial inquiry into a question, prob- 
lem, or subject which requires the 
identification, collection, and objec- 
tive treatment of evidence on all sides 
of an issue to reach a well-reasoned, 
defensible conclusion. Research is an 
exploration in critical thinking, not a 
polemical exercise; an investigation, 

the military largely discourages 
independent thought and 
critical inquiry 

not a crusade; a quest for truth, not a 
vehicle for propaganda; evidence in 
search of an answer, not an answer in 
search of evidence. 

What is the value of doing re- 
search? For one thing, it adds to our 
knowledge. At least that should be its 
intent. Only by looking beneath the 
surface can we escape the wages of ig- 
norance. Ignorance is not bliss. It is 
the height of irresponsibility — a breed- 
ing ground for incomprehension, in- 
competence, and intolerance. What we 
don't know will hurt us; even worse, it 
can hurt others. 

We are surrounded by a flood of 
information — more than ever before. 

But information is just an input to the 
thought processes that supposedly pro- 
duce knowledge. More, or even better, 
information does not necessarily lead 
to more, or even any, knowledge. In 
fact, relative to the amount of informa- 
tion available, there now may be less 
knowledge. Is that possible? Could we 
literally know less than our forebears? 

The evidence must speak for itself. It 
certainly is true that the more we learn, 
the more we realize the extent of our ig- 
norance. It also is true that for every 
question we answer, new ones arise that 
beg for yet more answers. 

Just as we are inundated with in- 
formation, so too are we deluged by 
opinion — on every conceivable topic. 



Like information, opinions are not 
knowledge. Rather they validate the 
truism that a little knowledge is a dan- 
gerous thing. Opinions often derive 
from nothing more substantial than 
impression, assumption, or specula- 
tion — things qualitatively quite distinct 
from reasoned judgment born of con- 
crete fact. Where there is a foundation 
of knowledge, it is typically only partial 
knowledge that obscures its own in- 
completeness and feeds the sort of false 
conviction that can so easily mutate 
into zealotry or bigotry. 

It is knowledge — not preconcep- 
tion, predisposition, or conventional 
wisdom — that we ought to strive for. 
That is what research helps us ac- 
quire. Moreover, doing research is a 
window to the process of reasoning. 
It is one thing to hold attitudes or 
beliefs. It is another to understand 
how we arrived at such imperfect 
conceptions of reality — whether by 
way of gut or brain. Experience arms 
us almost always with conviction, 
hardly ever with wisdom — yielding 
what is, to our minds, unassailable re- 
ceived truth. These convictions often 
blind us to real truth and, in the 
process, lead us to deny the validity 
and even the legitimacy of alternate 
points of view. 

As an institution, the military 
largely discourages independent 
thought and critical inquiry. This is an 
unfortunate, self-defeating contradic- 
tion for a profession whose raison d'etre 
is closely tied to outwitting adversaries 
and grappling with uncertainty. Undue 
emphasis on obedience and loyalty to 
the chain of command stifles dissent 
and erodes the spirit of inquiry so criti- 
cal to institutional vitality. Pervasive 
doctrine, regulations, and operating 
procedures breed an orthodoxy that 
drives out any felt need for originality. 
Even the deeply ingrained sense of in- 
dividual duty so central to the institu- 
tional ethos tends to be subverted into 
a mind-numbing workaholism that 
leaves many dedicated military profes- 
sionals drained of sufficient energy to 
systematically develop their powers of 
reflection and contemplation. More- 
over, there are few rewards for such 
"unproductive" intellectual pursuits. 



112 JFQ / Spring 1996 




Foster 



By the time officers reach senior rank, 
they have been thoroughly schooled 
in what to think, yet poorly prepared 
in how to think. And if they have spent 
the staff time expected of most officers 
by this stage in their career, they will 
have fully internalized distinctly anti- 
rational thought processes of success- 
ful bureaucratic and political advocacy. 

Aside from yielding knowledge, 
research releases its practitioners from 
the grip of certitude that characterizes 
apparatchiks or true believers. Unlike 
the latter — who are content to let au- 
thority figures tell them what to 
think — those who follow the rigors of 
inquiry learn firsthand how elusive an- 
swers can be, how much effort goes 
into the search for them, and how de- 
pendent for success any such search is 
on the questions that precede it. 

While research is basically about 
searching and re-searching for answers, 
it is the habit of inquiry growing out 
of such pursuits that is ultimately im- 
portant — to strategic thinkers no less 
than to intelligence analysts, detec- 
tives, or other investigators. When we 
do research, we learn how to ask good 
questions, what constitutes good an- 
swers, and what it takes to find them. 
We discover where to look for evi- 
dence, how to weigh it, and how much 
credence to give its sources. We learn 
what is and isn't defensible. Most criti- 
cally, we learn to identify shoddy or 
specious reasoning. In the final analy- 
sis, the ability to see through mental 



smoke and beyond rhetorical mirrors is 
what distinguishes the exceptional de- 
cisionmaker or strategist. 

As strange as it may seem, would- 
be generals or admirals are potentially 
more vulnerable to manipulation by 
alleged experts than neophyte political 
appointees — at least when it comes to 
major policy issues. Officers spend 
their pre-executive careers in a rigidly 
hierarchical system where they are ex- 
pected to defer to authority and attend 
to all-consuming details that free their 
seniors to deal with weightier matters. 
This leaves little opportunity to look 
up from the weeds. By the time they 
are eligible for senior schooling, defer- 
ence — to rank and expertise — is in- 
grained in their character. Moreover, 
they are likely to be narrowly focused 
specialists who, if they have literary in- 
terests beyond doctrinal manuals and 
military biographies, are more at- 
tracted to trade publications than to 
broad-gauged policy journals. 

When these officers are then ex- 
posed to larger issues and the daunting 
volume of opinion on the market, their 
tendency is to defer to purported ex- 
perts who have found their way into 
print. At that point, realizing there is 
little that hasn't already been said or 
thought on any subject, they confirm 
Abraham Lincoln's adage: "Books serve 
to show a man that those original 
thoughts of his aren't very new at all." 
Once past this initial stage of intellec- 
tual subjugation, though, these officers 
quickly discover how much more detri- 
tus there is than quality. They then will 



have begun the transformation from 
unquestioning consumer to critical — 
perhaps even original — thinker. 

Tongue of the Mind 

When Cervantes referred to the 
pen as "the tongue of the mind" he 
may well have meant to distinguish the 
mental relationship from the physical 
one that connects mouth to brain. After 
all, many people speak at great length 
without prior thought. The mouth 
doesn't require high-octane fuel; it can 
run on fumes. Writing is different. It 
can't be supplemented by vocal inflec- 
tion, body language, or immediate clari- 
fication. It has to stand on its own. 
Thus Boswell characterized truly good 
writing as "disciplined talking." 

However, only in an elementary 
sense is writing merely a tool for com- 
municating. More importantly, it is a 
catalyst for ideas. Think of what hap- 
pens when one writes — even if it is 
only a perfunctory memo. Is the pen 
simply a mechanical extension of the 
hand by which thoughts flow from 
head to paper? Or doesn't the act of 
writing stimulate the mental juices and 
give birth to new ideas? Doesn't the 
struggle to choose the right word or 
weave a seamless paragraph elicit no- 
tions that weren't there before? Does- 
n't this force us to be more exact? 

Writing has two consequential 
purposes. First, it enhances our ability 
to think. In fact, it could be called a 
high-stress performance test for the 
mind. Second, it is a way to leave 



Calvin and Hobbes 



by Bill Watterson 





HECR, I DONT moW 
ANYTHING ABOUT BATS/ 
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO 
WRITE A REPORT ON A 
SUBLECT I moW NOTHING 
ABOUT ?! IT'S IMPOSSIBLE! 



/ 




I SUPPOSE A OH, LIKE I’M 
RESEARCH GOING TO 

IS OUT OF LEARN MW 

THE QUESTION.) BATS AND 
THEN WRITE 
A REPORT r/ 

|L \ ©ME ME A 
\ .y \ BREAK./ 

nr N, ^ 




Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 113 



commenta: 







commentary 



■ mind of the strategist 



something tangible to posterity. Few of 
us think about legacies. But when all is 
said and done, ideas, schools of 
thought, and worldviews are the 
lifeblood of institutions, regimes, and 
societies. This is a point that should 
not be lost on the military. 

How does writing affect thinking? 
Studies indicate that writing activates a 
part of the brain that otherwise lies 
dormant. Only when hand and eye 
work in tandem to put words on paper 
do some thoughts buried in our sub- 
conscious come to life. And when we 
seek clarity, coherence, and a convinc- 
ing counterpoise to anticipated criti- 
cisms, we exercise our minds more 



strenuously than if we engaged in 
more conversation or even debate. 

Experienced bureaucrats might 
argue that one need only draft read- 
able correspondence and generate 
cryptic point papers and vu-graphs to 
succeed. Serious writing is neither re- 
quired nor appreciated. Bosses want 
completed actions that signify produc- 
tivity — and that beget routinization 
and standardization — and decision- 
makers insist that whatever impinges 
on their schedules be short and sweet. 
Being busy, they prefer to be briefed 
rather than to read. These managerial 



imperatives engender a minimalist ap- 
proach to writing that sets its own di- 
minished standard of literacy. 

One might ask what effect the 
stunted forms of normal bureaucratic 
communication have on the thinking 
of decisionmakers and their staffs. Do 
strategic failures reflect a dearth of stra- 
tegic thinking stemming from retarded 
thought processes? Might these proc- 
esses, in turn, be developed more fully — 
tapping unused regions of the brain — 
by more attention to good writing? 

Good writing and good thinking 
are not the same thing; but experience 
suggests that they are highly cor- 
related. The mere effort of trying to 
write well almost assuredly im- 
proves thinking. By contrast, 
sloppy, convoluted, pedantic writ- 
ing reveals thinking of comparable 
quality. Good writing requires 
practice and exposure to the good 
writing of others. While writing more 
doesn't guarantee writing well, it im- 
proves the odds. But if one works 
where mediocrity is the norm, it may 
be impossible to tell the difference. Ex- 
posure to truly good writing, then, is 
the only remedy. 

There are no universal standards 
of good writing nor foolproof ways of 
learning it. Substantive writing that is 
riddled with technical flaws may be 
considered every bit as good or bad as 
technically flawless writing that is 



banal. As with all aesthetic forms, the 
final arbiter is the eye of the beholder. 
But what if readers, immersed in bu- 
reaucratic discourse, are unable to dis- 
tinguish the good from the bad? 

Most military writing tends to be 
descriptive and reportorial. This is 
comforting to a culture that values the 
factual over the hypothetical, the lit- 
eral over the figurative, the authorita- 
tive over the speculative. But descrip- 
tive writing, far from being mind- 
expanding, can be mind-numbing. It 
requires little thought beyond the lin- 
ear, one-dimensional variety — only 
awareness and accuracy. 

Good writing thrives on concep- 
tualization born of originality. Think- 
ing for oneself requires the higher 
order intellectual skills of analysis (dis- 
secting and illuminating concepts), 
synthesis (combining concepts and 
generating new ones), and evaluation 
(establishing criteria and making judg- 
ments). Whereas employing these 
higher order skills focuses on matters 
of substance, another feature of good 
writing — logical organization — con- 
cerns the structure and coherence of 
an argument. It exposes the anatomy 
of one's thinking by asking: Is there a 
logical flow of ideas from an introduc- 
tion, which states an author's hypothe- 
sis, to the main body of the composi- 
tion, where he develops a central 
thought and presents evidence, to a 
conclusion, where he brings his formu- 
lation to closure? If there is no such 



good writing and good thinking 
are not the same thing; but they 
are highly correlated 



Calvin and Hobbes 



by Bill Watterson 



I USED TO HATE MUTING 
ASSIGNMENTS , BUT NOW) 

I ENloH TUEN\. 



T 




I REALIZED THAT THE 
PURPOSE Op WRITING IS 
TO INFLATE WEAK IDEAS, 

obscure poor reasoning, 

AND INHIBIT CLARITY. 




WITH A LITTLE PRACTICE, 
WRITING CAN BE AN 
INTIMIDATING AND § 

IMPENETRABLE FOG/ 1 

WANT TO SEE \Ki BOOK f 

REPORT ? § 




THE DYNAMICS OF INTERBEING 
AND MONOlOSICAL IMPERATIVES 
IN PICK AM JANE ■ A STUDT 
IN PSKHIC TRANS RELATIONAL 
GENDER MODES." 

ACADEMIA, 




Reprinted with permission. All rights reserved. 



114 JFQ / Spring 1996 





flow, if the elements of the argument 
and their linkages are not clear, if read- 
ers are left confused, the author has 
failed. A meandering argument reflects 
haphazard thinking, while merely 
stringing together the words of others 
betrays a lazy mind. 

Style is the most telling indicator 
of quality writing. It gives writing the 
power to inspire. To the denizens of 
any bureaucracy — including military 
professionals — style is basically anti- 
style: the turgid, stilted bureaucratese 
that over time has infiltrated their 
minds, subverted their language, and 
become their lingua franca. As anyone 
exposed to it for a nanosecond knows, 
bureaucratese is a bastard tongue dis- 
tinguished by its reliance on passive 
voice (the time-honored way of ob- 
scuring accountability), its often-in- 
scrutable circumlocutions to accom- 
modate the rules of formal English, 
and its blatant glorification of jargon. 

Jargon has no purpose other than 
to enable insiders to converse among 
themselves while excluding the unini- 
tiated. It reaches its zenith in the una- 
bridged correspondence and memo- 
randa that are bureaucracy's lifeblood. 
Even material written for public con- 
sumption, which is subject to radical 
editorial surgery before release, can 
provide a telling glimpse into just how 
deep-seated the predisposition to "lan- 
guaginal mayhem" truly is. 

The antithesis of — and antidote 
to — jargonizing is, simply, plain Eng- 
lish. Writing clearly is the first rule of 
style. The key to writing plain English, 
say its proponents, is to "write the way 
you talk." This is indeed sound advice 
for those with a firm command of the 
English language. But since many of 
us — senior officials included — don't al- 
ways speak distinctly or cogently, more 
appropriate advice would be to write as 
we ought to talk. 

Writing with clarity establishes 
only a floor of stylistic acceptability or 
competence. True stylistic elegance 
comes from the more sophisticated use 
of such techniques as allusion, irony, 
and the nonliteral figures of speech 
that literary types call "tropes": meta- 
phor, simile, hyperbole, and the like. 
Such devices enrich language and offer 
authors higher levels of both concep- 
tualization and precision — if only to 



Foster 



ensure the appropriateness and credi- 
bility of their imagery. 

Felicitous style can lift the mind to 
impressive heights. Quite the opposite 
might be said of the most elemental 
feature of good writing — grammatical 
and mechanical soundness — where the 
emphasis is on strict adherence to rec- 
ognized standards of correct language 
usage. For many, such considerations 
are too mechanistic and inconsequen- 
tial to warrant serious attention. Yet it 
would be a mistake to conclude that 

it is ironic that virtually all the 
reputed "experts" on strategic 
affairs are civilian 

seemingly rote compliance with rules 
of word form and placement, punctua- 
tion, and spelling is somehow unre- 
lated to the quality of one's thinking. 

There is much to be said for flout- 
ing linguistic conventions whose only 
justification seems to be that they de- 
rive from grammarians of yore. But it is 
an altogether different matter to assault 
literacy through unclear, imprecise, 
inconsistent, even illogical thought: 
subject-verb disagreement, dangling 
modifiers, mixed construction, vague 
pronouns, or sentence fragments. By 
the same token, technical correctness 
alone cannot compensate for or dis- 
guise the link between monotonous 
prose and monotone thinking — as 
when someone invariably uses declara- 
tive sentences punctuated only by com- 
mas and periods. 

The elements of good writing — 
higher order intellectual skills, logical 
organization, stylistic elegance, and 
grammatical and mechanical sound- 
ness — bear a demonstrable relation to 
the powers of the mind. And these 
powers, more than arms, wealth, tech- 
nology, or diplomatic and political ma- 
neuvering, will determine how well we 
steer our way into the future. 

Warriors as Intellects 

To be effective in the strategic 
realm, the military must produce its 
own strategic thinkers. This demands 



an institutional commitment to educa- 
tion that includes serious and sus- 
tained attention to writing and re- 
search. The task is to convince the 
military that such a commitment, long 
absent, is in its best interest. 

It is ironic and disappointing that 
virtually all the reputed "experts" on 
strategic and military affairs familiar to 
the public are civilian academicians, 
consultants, and journalists. Where are 
the great military minds of our day? 
Are there any? Or are they too busy to 
care? Is that why we must suffer ex- 
perience-impaired analysts pontifi- 
cating on strategy after advancing 
straight from graduate school to 
think tanks, or journalists-cum-seers 
expounding on the future of war- 
fare? Is that why disparaging refer- 
ences to the so-called "military mind" 
endure? 

These are questions we should 
ask. The military, as the most action- 
oriented institution in a mind-numb- 
ingly action-oriented society, tends to 
eschew intellectual pursuits. Like oth- 
ers who subscribe to the work ethic, 
military professionals work extremely 
hard and feel good about having ex- 
erted all that effort in the service of the 
Nation. But the work many of us do is 
far more consumptive than produc- 
tive; it burns calories and consumes 
time but leaves little more in its wake 
than new work for others. 

Actions are fleeting, but ideas en- 
dure — primarily through the written 
word. If men like Clausewitz, Mahan, 
and Liddell Hart are icons of strategic 
thought, it is because their ideas and 
the wisdom contained in them have 
been transmitted through their writ- 
ings. Armed only with the pen, they 
left indelible marks that extended their 
influence beyond that of their sword- 
wielding brothers in arms. There is no 
reason we should not be capable of de- 
veloping future generations of strate- 
gists of the same caliber who can leave 
an equally rich legacy. JFQ 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 115 



commenta: 





Joint Intelligence in 
World War II 



By JAMES D. MARCHIO 

Ample experience has demonstrated that neither Army intelligence nor Naval 
intelligence is complete without the other. On theatre and higher level , joint 
intelligence is necessary. Liaison and interchange of information is not enough 
to secure complete exploitation. 

— Report issued by the Joint Intelligence Center Pacific Ocean Area (November 8, 1945) 



J oint intelligence existed long before the 
Goldwater-Nichols Act and the Persian Gulf 
War. During World War II, joint intelligence 
organizations and operations were initiated 
at national and theater level. These efforts in- 
creased collection, enhanced production, and ex- 
pedited dissemination of critical intelligence to 
commanders as well as national policymakers. 
The emergence of joint intelligence between 1942 
and 1945 and its fate after the war provide valu- 
able lessons for today. The problems it con- 
fronted — conflicting intelligence reports, inaccu- 
rate battle damage assessment, and inadequate 



Major James D. Marchio, USAF, is assigned to the Joint Exercise Support 
Division, Directorate for Intelligence (J-2), Joint Staff, and has taught at 
the Joint Military Intelligence College. 



dissemination — remain familiar to JTF comman- 
ders and J-2 staffs today. So too are problems 
posed by bureaucratic infighting over roles and re- 
sources as well as reluctance on the part of some 
to fully support joint efforts. 

Ultra and Magic are terms that frequently 
come to mind when military professionals and 
scholars discuss the role of intelligence during 
World War II; but joint is a term that deserves in- 
clusion in such discussions. While lacking the im- 
pact of Ultra or Magic, joint intelligence efforts 
contributed to Allied operations in virtually every 
theater. Joint intelligence operations enhanced 
collection, improved production, and expedited 
dissemination of critical information. Nonethe- 
less, joint intelligence efforts during the war were 
neither universally accepted nor appreciated. 



116 JFQ / Spring 1996 



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M a r c h i o 



Origins of Joint Intelligence 

Several forces played a role in shaping the 
evolution of joint intelligence operations during 
World War II. Intelligence failures in the first 
year — from Pearl Harbor to North Africa — were 
the most important factors that pushed reforms 
and, in turn, joint intelligence. However, the 
changing nature of the conflict, the British expe- 
rience, and bureaucratic battles over a national 
intelligence organization which predated the war 
all influenced how joint intelligence emerged. 

Senior military leaders were aware of intelli- 
gence problems and were leading proponents of 
joint solutions. General 
George C. Marshall and Ad- 
miral Ernest J. King recog- 
nized that national intelli- 
gence was fragmented. 
Multiple agencies were pro- 
ducing intelligence without 
coordination. This led to duplication, incomplete 
analysis, and inadequate dissemination. Ultimately 
what was provided had little use to planners, deci- 
sionmakers, or operators. As Captain Ellis M. Zach- 
arias, USN, observed: "We found that very little 
truly valuable information was produced which 
higher echelons could accept as absolutely reliable 
and useful for orientation and action." 

The conduct of the war in Europe and the 
Pacific also played a large role in determining the 
extent of joint intelligence operations. In trying 
to satisfy the requirements of large-scale offensive 
operations, intelligence personnel slowly discov- 
ered that the solution lay with joint efforts. 

Joint intelligence bloomed during 1943 and 
1944 as U.S. forces transitioned from basically de- 
fensive to offensive operations requiring exten- 
sive interservice cooperation. The island hopping 
campaign in the Pacific and Allied operations in 
the Mediterranean and in Europe emphasized 
large-scale joint operations which, in turn, re- 
quired joint intelligence. As one senior naval in- 
telligence officer observed about the central Pa- 
cific: "As we move westward the Army part is 
becoming more and more important. We need 
Army men we can expose to Ultra and who [can 
provide] . . . assistance in Army Order of Battle, in 
Army Air Force Order of Battle, and if they have 
such a thing in Army traffic analysis." Increased 
land-based air operations and massive bombing 
in both theaters likewise generated requirements 
for target and flak intelligence and post-strike 
analysis. 

The availability of new sources also increased 
the need for joint intelligence exploitation. Little 
intelligence other than Ultra was initially avail- 
able in the autumn of 1942; but the volume of 
captured documents, prisoners, and aerial pho- 
tographs increased greatly as operations began in 



joint intelligence operations 
emerged at both national and 
theater levels 



the Solomon Islands and North Africa. But prob- 
lems arose with added requirements. Duplication 
of effort, competition over collection resources, 
delayed or unsuitable dissemination, and con- 
flicting assessments over enemy losses increas- 
ingly affected military and civilian intelligence 
support. For instance, in arguing for creation of a 
special joint body to weigh enemy casualties in 
March 1943, the secretary of the Joint Intelli- 
gence Committee (JIG) lamented that a joint esti- 
mate of casualties had not yet been made; more- 
over, estimates available in Washington varied by 
over 100 percent. 

Other forces spurred joint initiatives. The 
British experience during the first three years of 
the war provided a combat tested endorsement of 
joint operations. London had operated a joint in- 
telligence committee since 1940, using central- 
ized, coordinated intelligence to guide military 
and civilian intelligence operations. Congres- 
sional prompting and previous efforts by the Joint 
Board to encourage joint operations and greater 
interservice cooperation added pressure as well. Fi- 
nally, William J. Donovan's push to establish a na- 
tional intelligence organization — embodied first 
in the Coordinator of Information and later in the 
Office of Strategic Services (OSS) — generated fur- 
ther interest in reform and joint solutions. 

An Organization Emerges 

Joint intelligence operations during World 
War II emerged in each phase of the intelligence 
cycle — collection, production, and dissemina- 
tion — and at both national and theater level. 

Collection. One of the first areas to witness joint 
operations was collection. The creation of joint in- 
telligence collection agencies (JICAs) in 1943 was 
intended to ensure adequate support at both na- 
tional and theater levels. The Joint Chiefs and other 
national-level organizations recognized early that 
theater intelligence organizations had "neither the 
trained personnel nor the time to collect and pre- 
pare the information needed in Washington for 
strategic planning and training purposes." In argu- 
ing for JICAs, proponents cited less duplication, 
more effective use of skilled personnel and re- 
sources, and reduced operational expenditures. 

JICAs were operational in four theaters: 
North Africa (JICANA, later renamed JICAMED), 
Africa-Middle East (JICAME), China-India-Burma 
(JICACIB, which in 1945 became only India- 
Burma), and China (JICA/China). They were at- 
tached to their respective theater headquarters as 
separate staff sections. Composed of Army and 
Navy officers together with civilians and enlisted 
support personnel, JICAs ranged from 27 person- 
nel in JICA/China to 7 7 in JICAME. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 117 



■joint intelligence 



Namur Island, 
Kwajalein Atoll, in 
January 1944, prior 
to pre-invasion 
bombardment. 




JICAs performed three primary tasks. First, 
they collected, screened, and transmitted to 
Washington "all information, exclusive of com- 
bat intelligence, within the theater" desired by 
the War and Navy Departments. As theater collec- 
tion coordinators, JICAs provided logistical sup- 
port, tasking, and guidance to all human intelli- 
gence (HUMINT) sources, including OSS agents, 
in the JICA area of responsibility. Lastly, JICAs en- 
sured lateral dissemination of pertinent intelli- 
gence among various agencies, military and civil- 
ian, within each theater. 

JICAs were assisted by the Joint Intelligence 
Agency Reception Center (JIARC), created in Au- 
gust 1943 in Washington. JIARC managed admin- 
istrative instructions and support to JICAs. Impor- 
tantly, it coordinated War Department collection 
requirements and requests for information (RFIs) 
sent to theater JICAs. JIARC worked closely with 
theater JICAs to ensure the appropriate agencies 
or JICA assets were tasked to satisfy the collection 
requirement. 



Production. At national and theater level, 
joint intelligence production accompanied joint 
collections. JIC was formed in 1941 to prepare 
daily summaries and such special information 
and intelligence studies as were needed by higher 
authority or indicated by the situation. The J.I.C. 
Daily, and later the Weekly Summary, partially met 
this requirement. JIC eliminated a host of largely 
redundant intelligence publications by replacing 
the OSS The War This Week, War Department Situ- 
ation and Capabilities of the Enemy, and Office of 
Naval Intelligence (ONI) Fortnightly Summary of 
Current National Situation. 

Serving as the permanent JIC working com- 
mittee, the Joint Intelligence Staff (JIS) turned out 
intelligence estimates on enemy strength, capa- 
bilities, and intentions, and specialized technical 
subjects. Intelligence estimates drafted in 1942 re- 
ported on both German and Japanese economic 
and military status as well as studies on the "Fea- 
sibility of Supplying Russia via the Bering Strait" 
and "Axis Munitions Capabilities." By 1943, JIS 
was working closely in producing intelligence es- 
timates in direct support of the Joint War Plans 
Committee. 



118 



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Naval Historical Center 



M a r c h i o 



But efforts went beyond current and estima- 
tive intelligence support. The Joint Intelligence 
Study Publishing Board (JISPB), with representa- 
tives from the War Department G-2, ONI, OSS, A-2 
[Army Air Corps], and Office of Chief of Engineers, 
was created in May 1943 when it became clear that 
the activities of G-2, ONI, and OSS were duplica- 
tive, particularly in preparing foreign area studies. 
Consequently, JISPB commissioned a series of joint 
Army-Navy intelligence studies (JANIS) that pro- 
vided basic topographical data on likely opera- 
tional areas. These studies included information 
from 20 government agencies and ranged from 
Bulgaria to Japan and Indochina. Over 2,000 copies 
of each JANIS study were disseminated. 

Joint production also emerged in target, tech- 
nical, facilities, and battle damage assessment in- 
telligence. In late 1942, the Joint Army-Navy As- 
sessment Committee (JANAC) was convened at 
Marshall's request to provide more accurate esti- 
mates of enemy naval strength and to eliminate 
service disputes over enemy naval and merchant 
losses. This committee functioned throughout the 
war and produced reports with detailed informa- 
tion on each sinking. Simi- 

initiatives to vest more power lar1 ^ the J° int Tar § et 

Group, Technical Air Intel- 

in joint bodies met resistance i ig ence Center, and joint 

throughout 1942 and 1943 Airfield Group brought to- 

gether officers from each 
service and often represen- 
tatives from OSS, Foreign Economic Administra- 
tion, and Royal Air Force in the hope of avoiding 
redundant and conflicting production. Launched 
between June and November 1944, these activities 
proved essential in identifying Japan's strategic vul- 
nerabilities and guiding allied exploitation efforts. 

Joint intelligence production extended to 
theater level as well. Each JICA, for instance, pro- 
duced limited theater intelligence, conducting 
studies when other means were unavailable. The 
most significant theater production effort, how- 
ever, occurred in the central Pacific, with the 
Joint Intelligence Center Pacific Ocean Area 
(JICPOA). This activity was established in Septem- 
ber 1943 to collect, collate, evaluate, and dissemi- 
nate strategic and tactical intelligence for the 
commander in chief, Pacific Ocean Areas. Truly 
joint, it fully integrated representatives from all 
the services. By 1945, it had 1,800 personnel as- 
signed to its facility in Hawaii as well as hundreds 
at its Advanced Intelligence Center (AIC) on 
Guam and at other locations. JICPOA became an 
intelligence factory, producing various area hand- 
books, maps, and intelligence summaries aimed 
at supporting theater combat operations. The 
products were used by operational planners and 
commanders in drafting plans for operations 
from Galvanic (Tarawa) to Downfall (the invasion 



of Japan). In fact, JICPOA weekly production 
eventually reached 2,000,000 sheets of printed in- 
telligence and over 150,000 photographic prints. 

Dissemination. Mirroring and facilitating col- 
lection and production were efforts in the area of 
dissemination. Both JIARC and the Joint Electron- 
ics Information Agency (JEIA) had key roles in 
speeding dissemination of critical intelligence. 
JIARC, for example, formed a joint selection panel 
for prompt inspection, selection, and centralized 
distribution of all JICA reports. The panel helped 
reduce the number of copies needed from the 
field while providing a more efficient mechanism 
to disseminate information. JIARC also managed 
courier service to ensure prompt, secure delivery 
of JICA-collected intelligence that made weekly 
distribution runs and provided direct contact and 
exchange of opinions between intelligence officers 
in Washington and those in the field. 

The purpose of JEIA was to improve dissemi- 
nation of time sensitive technical intelligence. Es- 
tablished by the Joint Communications Board in 
October 1943, its efforts to speed dissemination 
of electronic information among and within the 
Army, Navy, and the Office of Scientific Research 
and Development were critical to maintaining 
our lead in radio communication, radar, and elec- 
tronic devices, and in developing effective coun- 
termeasures. As part of the JEIA effort, a joint 
panel met daily to examine collected informa- 
tion. When necessary, critical technical intelli- 
gence reports were reproduced overnight and dis- 
seminated the next day. JEIA also prevented 
needless duplication and unnecessary dissemina- 
tion by cross-checking incoming reports against 
previously received ones. JEIA processed 10,000 
electronic documents during its two-year exis- 
tence, with nearly 80 percent on an expedited 
basis (16-24 hours). 

Resistance and Success 

Establishing and operating joint intelligence 
organizations like JICA, JICPOA, JISPB, and JEIA 
was anything but quick or easy. Initiatives to vest 
more power in joint bodies met resistance at na- 
tional and theater level throughout 1942 and 
1943. Moreover, even when launched many joint 
intelligence efforts were not as broad or binding 
as some had hoped. Ambivalent support resulted 
in ad hoc committee arrangements based more 
on voluntary cooperation than structured agree- 
ments or procedures. 

The failure to set up the Joint Intelligence 
Agency (JIA) is the most poignant example of 
such resistance. Although backed by King and 
Marshall in Autumn 1942, JIA was never estab- 
lished. The original proposal envisioned a strong, 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 119 



■joint intelligence 



centralized agency that could unify disparate in- 
telligence collection, production, and dissemina- 
tion efforts by the services. After favorable review 
by the Joint Chiefs, the JIA proposal was returned 
to both the War Department G-2 and ONI direc- 
tor for further study and development. Yet signifi- 
cant differences remained. Ultimately a compro- 
mise was forwarded to JCS in March 1943 which 
reduced JIA authority and role. But the Joint 
Chiefs were reluctant to approve it. Admiral 
William D. Leahy told his colleagues that he saw 
no reason to establish the agency. He asserted 
that JIC was performing all the necessary intelli- 
gence functions for JCS. He warned that "it 
would be inadvisable for urgent information of 
an intelligence nature to be delayed by being 
passed through an additional agency." Respond- 
ing to Leahy's concerns, King asserted that "there 
should be no delay whatever, but rather that a 
more valuable product should result." General 
Henry H. ("Hap") Arnold suggested that the sub- 
ject deserved more study before approval; thus 
JCS directed the deputy chiefs of staff to review 
the issue further. 

More bureaucratic delay and reorganization 
within G-2 and ONI eventually sealed the fate of 
JIA. In late March, the Army deputy chief of staff 
recommended against the G-2/ONI directive, 
proposing a vastly different structure based on 
joint regional intelligence organizations. The first 
such organization would control activities in the 
Western Hemisphere south of the United States 
with headquarters in Miami. G-2 concurred with 
the regional proposal but expressed doubts about 
whether this structure would work in combat the- 
aters. ONI, on the other hand, refused to commit 
to the proposal until its internal reorganization 
was completed. The joint deputy chiefs advised 
JCS in May that the case was in the hands of the 
Navy and that action was suspended. Six more 
months of inactivity prompted the joint deputy 
chiefs to recommend that the proposal be re- 
moved from the JCS agenda and pursued as 
"practical." 

Even approved initiatives reflected such am- 
bivalence and constraints on joint organizations. 
For instance, the directive authorizing JICAs gen- 
erated considerable disagreement between G-2 
and ONI over both the breadth of their mission 
and the control of intelligence assets. The nar- 
rower G-2 interpretation won out. Nevertheless, 
JICAs were almost abolished shortly after stand- 
ing up. They were operated on a trial basis for 
three months with a restriction "that no addi- 
tional JICAs be established until those [in opera- 
tion demonstrate] that the organization is sound; 



that it can operate in harmony with the wishes of 
the theater commander, and that its product is 
commensurate with the cost in personnel and 
money." 

Similar opposition arose at theater level. De- 
spite strong support from the Marine Corps as 
well as Pacific Fleet for forming a joint intelli- 
gence center in Spring 1942, JICPOA did not be- 
come a reality for another 14 months. In re- 
sponse to CINCPAC, the vice chief of naval 
operations noted that after looking at inherent 
difficulties in directly initiating such a joint pro- 
ject, it was preferable to constitute the activity as 
primarily a naval center. 

Why were the initiatives opposed? Several 
related explanations emerge. Foremost was the 
belief that joint organizations did not fully appre- 
ciate service-unique requirements. Consequently, 
they could not meet individual service needs or 
those of component commanders. Interservice as 
well as intraservice friction also undermined sup- 
port. Despite many cooperative G-2/ONI projects 
during the war, each maintained its own separate 
intelligence structure and resisted any attempts to 
restrict its operations. Intraservice discord like- 
wise made joint efforts more difficult to conduct. 
How could consensus be reached among the ser- 
vices when the Signal Corps and G-2 were bat- 
tling over control of Ultra information within the 
War Department? 

Joint intelligence also faced difficulties be- 
cause it required new organizations, procedures, 
and thinking. Joint intelligence initiatives con- 
fronted bureaucratic inertia and a legacy that 
viewed intelligence as a service prerogative. Col- 
lecting, producing, and disseminating intelli- 
gence jointly forced officers trained by individual 
services to operate in very different ways. More- 
over, without a strong proponent or institutional 
sponsor in the intelligence community, joint in- 
telligence initiatives encountered an uphill battle. 

Ironically, progress in joint initiatives under- 
mined larger, more comprehensive efforts such as 
JIA. Opponents cited progress in operating JICAs 
and JIC in arguing against further measures. Simi- 
larly, wartime requirements were a dual-edged 
sword, spurring joint initiatives while warning 
against excessive tinkering in the face of the 
enemy. 

Finally, the personalities, viewpoints, and in- 
telligence requirements of theater commanders 
and their staffs were key to how joint intelligence 
was received. Unlike the Pacific Ocean Area, the 
South West Pacific Area (SWPA) never developed 
a joint intelligence organization. According to the 
after-action report, the reason was that the chief 
of staff failed to recognize its importance and G-2 
lacked the power to accomplish it. One observer 
confirmed this situation, noting that efforts to 



120 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



Naval Historical Center 



M a r c h i o 




Joint Intelligence 
Command Pacific 
Ocean Area at Pearl 
Harbor. 



Nimitz visiting fleet air 
photo squadron on 
Guam, May 1945. 



create a joint organization in SWPA were unlikely 
to succeed: "I am fully aware of the fact that poli- 
tics and personalities make any such reorganiza- 
tion impossible." 

Ultimately the operational records of such 
activities were their best weapon in overcoming 
opposition and silencing criticism at national and 
theater level. JICA, JANIS, JEIA, and JICPOA were 
lauded for their efforts and products. The chief of 
staff, Pacific Ocean Areas, praised JANIS studies, 
indicating that they were indispensable refer- 
ences for the shore-based planner. Similarly, 
JICPOA earned high marks for designing and pro- 
ducing a target-area map acceptable to all ground, 
naval, and air forces. And JEIA success in cutting 
the dissemination time for important intelligence 
information from 60 days to 16 hours was much 
appreciated by military and civilian organizations 
and contributed considerably to advancing the 
electronics and counter-measures program. 

The process by which joint intelligence was 
produced also won praise because it yielded qual- 
ity results with limited resources and dissemi- 
nated it quickly and appropriately. In evaluating 
its own accomplishments, JICA concluded that 
the coordination effected by its theater JICAs in 
the collection of non-operational information 



and intelligence eliminated much duplication 
and resulted in a much greater proportion of in- 
telligence as distinguished from unevaluated in- 
formation reaching Washington. The JICA report 
cited the agency's "joint character. . . for an econ- 
omy of personnel and a reduction in unnecessary 
duplication." The JICPOA experience provided an 
even stronger endorsement of joint intelligence 
and the synergism of joint efforts. The end result 
was enhanced support to military commanders 
and policymakers. 

War's End 

The final months of the war and its after- 
math are indicative of how far joint intelligence 
had progressed in four years. Yet this period also 
highlights the reservations some still held regard- 
ing joint operations. Encouraged by success dur- 
ing the war and praise in various after-action re- 
ports, several joint organizations continued after 
the cessation of hostilities. JIC continued to serve 
the Joint Staff and government policymakers, 
providing current intelligence and other support. 
In discussing its future after Japan's surrender, JIC 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 121 



Naval Historical Center 




■joint intelligence 




Powerful supporters of 
joint intelligence. 



observed: "It is axiomatic that joint strategy and 
planning should be based upon joint intelligence 
[and] . . . this need is not limited to the period of 
hostilities." Similarly JISPB remained operational, 
both completing JANIS on-going studies and be- 
ginning studies on potential operational areas. 
JEIA also continued operations; but its mission 
and authority were reduced when it became a 
subcommittee of the Joint Communications 
Board. 

New joint intelligence efforts were even 
begun in the wake of Germany's defeat. The Joint 
Intelligence Objectives Agency (JIOA) was created 

in June 1945 to con- 



with Army and Navy intelligence 
organizations in place, some saw 
joint intelligence as expendable 



tinue collection, pro- 
cessing, and dissemi- 
nation of technical 
intelligence started ear- 
lier in the war. In addi- 
tion, JIOA was tasked 
with identifying and transporting German and 
Austrian scientists to the United States for interim 
and long range exploitation, efforts codenamed 
Project Paperclip. 

But most joint intelligence activities were 
disbanded. Neither service approved a proposal to 
continue JICAs and JIARC. Consequently, JICAs 
in the Mediterranean, Africa-Middle East, India- 
Burma, and China theaters were deactivated be- 
tween August and December 1945. JICPOA was 
likewise disbanded in October 1945 while JANAC 
continued in operation until 1947. 

Several factors explain the short lifespan of 
joint intelligence. Most importantly, conditions 
changed. The end of the war greatly decreased 



consumption at national and theater level. It also 
decreased the need for large volumes of intelli- 
gence and its rapid dissemination. Domestic polit- 
ical pressure to demobilize and cut military spend- 
ing also spurred efforts to dissolve wartime 
overhead. With established Army and Navy intelli- 
gence organizations in place, some saw joint intel- 
ligence agencies as redundant and expendable. 
Opponents cited the increased coordination and 
additional bureaucratic layers required for joint 
operations as justification for dissolution. Many 
reservations about joint operations voiced early in 
the war remained and were strengthened by these 
arguments. In fact, as late as March 1945, joint in- 
telligence was not being fully accepted. In dis- 
cussing efforts to establish a joint air intelligence 
cell at the Advance Intelligence Center on Guam, 
an officer at JICPOA complained of "the heart- 
breaking road ahead," with many giving only "lip 
service" to the concept of joint intelligence, 
lamenting, "some days I feel we are making 
progress in that direction; some days I feel we are 
slipping backward." While JICPOA eventually cre- 
ated the air intelligence cell, its experience sug- 
gests that jointness was not universally accepted 
or appreciated. In fact, less than two months after 
Japan's surrender, Marshall was appealing yet 
again for a better intelligence system, advocating 
one with a joint agency as its centerpiece. 

Lessons of the Past 

Joint intelligence in World War II faced many 
of the same problems as today. The Persian Gulf 
War dramatically illustrated that conflicting battle 
damage assessments and inadequate or slow dis- 
semination did not disappear with the defeat of 
Germany and Japan in 1945. The criticisms of in- 
telligence voiced during and after Desert Storm by 
General Norman Schwarzkopf and others in many 
respects echoed King, Marshall, and Congress fifty 
years earlier. The problems of JICA in managing 
national and theater collection assets and re- 
sponding to various RFIs in 1943 also have not di- 
minished over time — nor have more efficient uses 
of resources or impediments to doing so. Many 
would agree that the claim by JISPB in 1945 — that 
"few intelligence activities in Washington take the 
trouble to find out what other people are doing in 
their own lines" which caused "needless duplica- 
tion of work and conflicting information" — is still 
an accurate criticism. 

The solutions to many problems experienced 
during the war are also relevant. The creation of 
theater JICAs and the national level JIARC pro- 
vide lessons that may assist the recently activated 
Defense HUMINT Service (DHS). Similarly, the 
successes as well as shortcomings of JICPOA offer 
valuable insights into refining theater-level JICs 
in combatant commands. The same is true of the 



122 JFQ / Spring 1996 




M a r c h i o 



wartime experience of JISPB and the new Com- 
bined Intelligence Publishing Service in DOD. 

Beyond these lessons, the experience of joint 
intelligence during World War II reveals that 
many of the same forces prevail today. The impli- 
cations of intelligence requirements are foremost 
among them. Just as the shift from defensive to 
multiservice offensive operations drove the birth 
of joint intelligence in 1942-45, military, politi- 
cal, and fiscal realities in the post-Cold War pe- 
riod mandate a key role for joint intelligence. In- 
creasingly, complex and varied operations other 
than war (OOTW) and organizations — including 
adaptive joint force packaging — demand that mil- 
itary and civilian as well as national and theater 
level intelligence assets work closely together. 

Finally, the history of joint intelligence re- 
veals many obstacles and sentiments that con- 
tinue to impede joint intelligence initiatives and 
operations. Legitimate as well as exaggerated con- 
cerns over the ability of joint intelligence to ade- 
quately meet service and component needs first 
surfaced in World War II. So did parochial service 
interests that limited the authority of joint orga- 
nizations, leading to loosely structured coopera- 
tion rather than required joint action. Current ef- 
forts to shield component intelligence assets and 
to ensure that joint doctrine is authoritative 
rather than directive suggest such sentiments 
have not disappeared. Today, as in 1942, both op- 
erators and intelligence officers must overcome 
such reservations. Given new and more complex 
missions, diminished resources, and the ever in- 
creasing importance of intelligence for smart 
weapons and future conflict, there is an even 
greater need to operate jointly. 

The current atmosphere is conducive to 
jointness. Both the Goldwater-Nichols Act and the 
Defense Intelligence Reorganization Act continue 
to spark joint initiatives. Bureaucratic as well as 
congressional pressure to reorganize the intelli- 
gence community — symbolized by the Com- 
mission on the Roles and Capabilities of the U.S. 
Intelligence Community, efforts by the House Per- 
manent Select Committee on Intelligence under 
"Intelligence Community 21 st Century," and the 
decision to consolidate eight agencies into the Na- 
tional Imagery and Mapping Agency — auger well 
for joint operations. Technological develop- 
ments — such as the joint deployable intelligence 
support system (JDISS) and joint worldwide intel- 
ligence communications system (JWICS) — and or- 
ganizational changes facilitate joint operations. 
The creation of the National Military Joint Intelli- 
gence Center and strengthening the Military Intel- 
ligence Board should also help overcome resis- 
tance to joint intelligence operations. 



Yet such optimism must be tempered. The 
joint environment may quickly become less hos- 
pitable as controversies over service roles and 
missions persist and related budget battles for 
limited resources intensify. 

The relevance of studying joint intelligence 
operations is apparent. Even this brief look at the 
intelligence operations during World War II indi- 
cates that many lessons — paid for in blood and 
treasure — await rediscovery. History can assist the 
intelligence community in rapidly relearning 
these costly but valuable lessons, guiding its reor- 
ganization now as well as in the future. JPQ 



NOTES 

This article is based largely on materials in the Na- 
tional Archives, Naval Historical Center, U.S. Army Cen- 
ter of Military History, and Armed Forces Staff College. 
The bulk of formerly classified memoranda and reports 
cited are found in National Archives Record Groups 
(RG) 218 (CJCS Central Decimal File 1942-45), RG 319 
(Army Staff, Records of Assistant Chief of Staff Intelli- 
gence), and RG 457 (National Security Agency). Other 
information was extracted from the Office of Naval In- 
telligence United States Naval Administration in World 
War II, guide no. 26a, vols. 1-4, July 10, 1946, Naval 
Historical Center; the Joint Intelligence Center Pacific 
Ocean Area (JICPOA) final report; U.S. Pacific Fleet and 
Pacific Ocean Areas, "Report of Intelligence Activities in 
the Pacific Ocean Areas," October 15, 1945, Armed 
Forces Staff College; and the General Headquarters Far 
East Command, Military Intelligence Section, General 
Staff, Operations of the Military Intelligence Section GHO, 
SWPA/FEC/SCAP, vol. 3, Intelligence Series (I), 1951, 
U.S. Army Center of Military History. 

A variety of memoirs and secondary sources were also 
consulted. W.J. Holmes' firsthand account of the cre- 
ation and operation of JICPOA, Double-Edged Secrets: U.S. 
Naval Intelligence Operations in the Pacific during World 
War II (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1979), and 
Thomas F. Troy's comprehensive discussion of the birth 
of national intelligence, Donovan and the CIA: A History 
of the Establishment of the Central Intelligence Agency (Fred- 
erick, Md.: Aletheia Books, University Publications of 
America, Inc., 1981), proved to be most valuable. 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 



123 




■ of chiefs and chairmen 



Admiral Arleigh Albert Burke 

( 1901 - 1996 ) 

Chief of Naval Operations 



VITA 




B orn in Boulder, Colorado; graduated from Naval Academy (1923); USS Arizona (1923-28); USS 
Procyon (1928-29); postgraduate student, Naval Academy and University of Michigan (1929-31); 
naval gun factory, Washington Navy Yard (1931-32); USS Chester (1932-33); battle force camera 
party, U.S. Fleet (1933-35); Bureau of Ordnance (1935-37); USS Craven (1937-39); commanding 
officer, USS Mugford (1939-40); naval gun factory 
(1940-43); commander, destroyer divisions forty-three, 
forty-four, twelve, and twenty-three (1943-44); chief of 
staff and aide, first carrier task force, Pacific (1944-45); 
research and development division, Navy Department 
(1945-46); chief of staff and aide, Atlantic Fleet (1946- 
47); General Board, Navy Department (1947-48); com- 
manding officer, USS Huntington (1948); office of the 
chief of naval operations (1948-50); chief of staff, 

Naval Forces, Far East; commander, cruiser division 
five; military armistice delegation, Korea (1951); direc- 
tor, strategic plans, office of the chief of naval opera- 
tions (1951-54); commander, cruiser division six 
(1954-55); commander, destroyer force, Atlantic Fleet 
(1955); chief of naval operations (1955-61); died 
at Bethesda. 




We believe in command, not staff. We believe we have “real” things to do. 
The Navy believes in putting a man in a position with a job to do, and let him 
do it — give him hell if he does not perform — but to be a man in his own 
name. We decentralize and capitalize on the capabilities of our individual 
people rather than centralize and make automatons of them. This builds 
that essential pride of service and sense of accomplishment. If it results in a 
certain amount of cockiness, I am for it. But this is the direction in which we 
should move. 

— Letter from Arleigh A. Burke to RADM Walter G. Schindler, 
May 14, 1958 




Portrait by 
Orlando Lagman. 



124 JFQ / Spring 1996 






Where are the 

Arleigh Burkes Today? 

By MARK YOST 




Arleigh Burke made a name for himself — "31-knot Burke" — as a 
hard-charging destroyer squadron commander in the Pacific 
theater during World War II. He went on to be the only chief of 
naval operations to serve three terms, and along the way he 
oversaw the construction of nuclear carriers, ballistic missile 
submarines, and highly mobile amphibious forces. But it was 
earlier, as a captain, that Burke showed his real mettle in a mili- 
tary culture quite different from today's. 



In the aftermath of the war, senior military 
leaders vigorously debated our strategic posture. 
The Air Force, recently separated from the Army 
and with the support of President Truman, held 
that bombers had been the decisive factor in the 
war and would be the best force to win the peace. 

The Navy had other ideas. The keel had just 
been laid for USS United States, the first so-called 
super carrier. The Navy thought that forward-de- 
ployed carrier battle groups were the best means 
of projecting American power. A spirited debate 
ensued over whether the Air Force with its doc- 
trine of strategic bombing or the Navy with its 
carriers could do the job better. 

"The Army Air Force is tired of being a subor- 
dinate outfit and is no longer going to be a subor- 
dinate outfit," declared Brigadier General Frank 
Armstrong in 1947. "It was a predominant force 
during the war. It is going to be a predominant 
force during the peace, and you may as well make 
up your minds, whether you like it or not, that 
we do not care whether you like it or not: The 
Army Air Force is going to run the show." 



Mark Yost is an editorial page writer who covers 
defense issues for The Wall Street Journal Europe; 
he served in the Navy during the 1980s. 



The Navy was no less gracious, calling Air 
Force doctrine on strategic bombing "childish" 
and labeling the B-36 a "billion dollar blunder." 
Helping to make the case was Burke, who headed 
the organizational research and policy division 
(OP-23) in the office of chief of naval operations. 
There he and his staff began to get the best of the 
Air Force with strategy papers that bolstered the 
argument for carrier forces. As a result, Burke's 
staff was put under veritable house arrest with the 
arrival of the inspector general and Marine secu- 
rity guards. But their views had the backing of se- 
nior admirals, many well-known, such as Ernest 
King and Chester Nimitz. This fracas almost cost 
Burke his career and was part of what became 
known as "the revolt of the admirals." 

Not long after the revolt began, North Ko- 
rean troops crossed the 38 th parallel. U.S. forces 
then made their famous landing at Inchon, and 
the debate over the utility of carriers was put to 
rest. This brief account points out how the strate- 
gic issues facing the United States then were much 
the same as now, although the environment is to- 
tally different. In the late 1940s, the Armed Forces 
were largely unchallenged in a world that had just 
witnessed the end of a global conflict between the 
forces of good and evil. Then the Nation was 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 125 




out of joint 



WHERE ARE THE ARLEIGH BURKES? 



struggling to redefine its role — as well as that of its 
military — as the strategic landscape underwent a 
rapid transformation. While the budget deficit of 
that day, twice the gross domestic product, had 
been a small price to pay for defeating the Axis, it 
nonetheless resulted in a dramatic decline in de- 
fense spending and a struggle among the services 
over shrinking resources. 

Today the strategic situation is much the 
same. The United States is largely unchallenged. 
In the aftermath of the Cold War the Nation is 
struggling to redefine its role as the only super- 
power and the role its military should play in the 
world. And today, a budget deficit nowhere near 
the size of the one following World War II is pres- 
suring the services to do more with less. 

But there is one significant difference be- 
tween the post- World War II era in which Burke 
flourished and today: the absence of vigorous de- 
bate over national security and military strategy. 
Imagine an Air Force general speaking as candidly 
today as General Armstrong did in 1947. It is al- 
most unheard of. Certainly pol- 
icy and strategic issues are hotly 
contested behind closed doors 
at the Pentagon, and service 
staffs are fully aware of the 
stakes in current budgetary ma- 
neuvers. But the military no 
longer has intellectual debates 
like those in the wake of World War II. Why? 

Based on discussions with military leaders, 
service planners, defense analysts, and — most im- 
portantly — junior officers, a disturbing image 
emerges. There is no vigorous debate because the 
emphasis today is on jointness. Strategy has be- 
come so politicized that making a strong case for 
the capabilities of any one service — even when 
not openly pillorying the others — is taboo. 

"I would seriously think twice about publish- 
ing an article in, say, Proceedings or another pro- 
fessional journal that didn't have a strong joint 
theme or made a strong case for the tactics and 
strategies of one service," said a Navy officer who 
asked not to be identified. "Even if I didn't attack 
another service, the clear rule is that if you're not 
advocating joint warfighting, you might as well 
not say anything. If you do, it's going to irrepara- 
bly hurt or possibly end your career." 

Why have the Armed Forces strayed from 
the open, vigorous debates of Burke's day to the 
stifling environment described above? John 
Lehman, the outspoken former Secretary of the 
Navy, suggests that the basic attitude of "go along 
to get along" is fostered in the minds of junior of- 
ficers. "When a young officer comes out of OCS 



making a strong case for 
the capabilities of any one 
service is taboo 



or one of the service academies, he quickly learns 
the rules of the game," Lehman says. "Don't rock 
the boat. Don't take a risk that may result in you 
getting a 'B' on your evals, and spend as much 
time in Washington as you can, preferably in a 
joint billet. . . . The net result of all this is that ju- 
nior officers aren't learning to be warfighters any- 
more, they're learning to be staff fighters." 

Tom Linn, a lieutenant colonel assigned to 
Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, and one of the 
few sources who would go on record, agrees with 
Lehman. "We're sending a terrible message to ju- 
nior officers today. When I was a junior officer, 
you were encouraged to go out on a limb, think 
out of the box. As a young lieutenant you were 
supposed to make mistakes. And you were en- 
couraged to learn from them. Today, everyone's 
so fearful of getting a 'B' on their evals that they 
don't take risks. I'm sorry to say that it has given 
us an officers corps that avoids risks, is self-cen- 
tered and career oriented, and that possesses few 
independent thinking skills." 




GEN John W. Vessey, Jr. 



Senator John McCain, a Naval Academy 
graduate who comes from a distinguished line of 
sailors (to include a grandfather who served with 
Burke in the Pacific), concurs with Lehman that 
today's atmosphere inhibits junior officers but 
points out it is nothing new. "I'm sorry to say 
that this stifling of debate is heavily indoctri- 
nated into the officer corps and has been for 
some time now. You can clearly see it from the 
Joint Chiefs and other senior Pentagon leaders 
right down through the ranks. The Joint Chiefs 
today, I hate to say it, are very dedicated, very 
hardworking, very unimaginative people. They've 
gotten where they are because they learned their 
lesson early on not to rock the boat and make 
waves for the administration." 



126 



JFQ / Spring 1996 



DOD 





Yost 



A few maverick officers have succeeded 
through a combination of skill and outspokenness. 
But they are the exception. One is General John 
Vessey, USA, who served as the Chairman under 
President Reagan. Going into the 1980 presidential 
campaign, the White House put out the word that 
the Joint Chiefs and other senior officers were ex- 
pected to publicly support Salt II. Under no cir- 
cumstances would opposition to the agreement be 
tolerated. "One of the few 
holdouts was John Vessey, 
who was in Europe at the 
time," Lehman notes. "He 
knew Salt II was a bad treaty 
for us, and regardless of what 
the administration thought, 
he wasn't going to support it. When Reagan came 
into office he reviewed everyone's record and saw 
that Vessey was one of the few who hadn't shilled 
for the Carter administration. That was enough for 
Reagan: he made Vessey the Chairman." 

Mavericks have not fared so well of late. One 
is General Merrill McPeak, former chief of staff of 
the Air Force. After the "Bottom-Up Review" ap- 
peared, McPeak testified before Congress that the 
review was an "abstraction, the budget a reality." 
And on plans to cut forces, he indicated that they 
were "designed by someone who must be in a po- 
sition of not having to take responsibility for the 
combat results." Later, as the Commission on the 
Roles and Missions of the Armed Forces deliber- 
ated, he publicly defended the Air Force doctrine 
on strategic bombing and virtual presence. "The 
Joint Chiefs are just caretakers," McPeak recently 
confided. "That's who they look for now. Just like 
the message that's sent to the junior officers. It's 
really very stifling and none of the services do 
too much innovative thinking today because of 
it. The Marines tend to think out of the box a lit- 
tle bit. . . . The others, especially the Army, are, 
well — unimaginative, to say the least." 

If even senior officers fall victim to prevail- 
ing culture, what is the solution? Perhaps more 
importantly, where did the spirit of the revolt of 
the admirals end and one of near total compli- 
ance with civilian leadership pick up? Certainly 
the senior leadership of the Armed Forces must 
accept some blame. While military officers have 
always been aware of their constitutional obliga- 
tion to defer to civilian control, they have an 
equal responsibility to safeguard the Nation. 
There must be ways of doing that without being 
insubordinate. 



nearly every administration 
has tightened the grip on 
military leadership 



But in fairness, civilian leaders must also ac- 
cept some of the blame. Like every bureaucrat 
who gets a taste for power, their penchant has 
been to consolidate it, often against the advice of 
experienced and knowledgeable senior military 
officers. But it is more than just bureaucrats in 
the Pentagon. Nearly every administration since 
Truman has tightened the grip on military leader- 
ship, which discourages debate. How did this sit- 
uation arise? Some maintain that a relative atti- 
tude of complacency started when MacArthur 
was fired and others that it surfaced in Vietnam 
when senior officers fudged body counts to sat- 
isfy the objectives of decisionmakers. Observes 
C.W. Watson, a retired Army officer: "Unfortu- 
nately, somewhere along the way military officers 
have lost that tradition of resigning rather than 
carrying out orders that, while lawful, they fully 
know to be not in the best interest of our country 
and its defense." 

"If we're going to change this culture, it re- 
ally has to come from within the ranks," muses 
Tom Linn. "Senior officers who recognize the im- 
portance of innovative tactical and doctrinal 
thinking must encourage this in junior officers 
and, more importantly, protect them from those 
who might stifle them or sabotage their careers 
because of their outspoken views. That may lead 
to tensions among general officers, but it is a bat- 
tle — possibly bloody — that must be waged to 
achieve the level of strategic and tactical thinking 
that helped to win the Cold War and made us the 
fighting force we are today." 

Although this may sound like a call for an- 
other revolt of the admirals, the central question 
remains: Where are the Arleigh Burkes to lead an 
intellectual debate today? JFQ 



This essay is based on a series of interviews conducted 
by the author earlier this year. 



JFQ 



welcomes your letters and 
comments. Write or FAX your 
correspondence to 
(202) 685-4219/DSN 325-4219, 



or over the Internet to 
JFQl@ndu.edu 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 127 





■the joint world 



Organization 



PACIFIC JTF 

U.S. Third Fleet — onboard USS Coro- 
nado and home-ported in San Diego — is 
undergoing a major transformation. It is 
no longer enough to train forces in isola- 
tion for exclusively naval missions or 
conduct business from a traditional flag- 
ship. Today, Third Fleet focuses on 
preparing its staff and assigned forces to 
carry out a full range of joint and com- 
bined operations. 

Under the PACOM two-tiered com- 
mand and control model (see "A Com- 
mander in Chief Looks at East Asia" in 
JFQ, Spring 95), three subordinate com- 
manders were designated potential JTF 
commanders. But with a changing situa- 
tion in the largest theater, it became clear 
that an added sea-based JTF commander 
was needed. Therefore in November 1994 
CINCPAC designated the commander of 
Third Fleet as JTF commander for contin- 
gency operations in the Pacific. 

With the support of the chief of 
naval operations and commander in 
chief of Pacific Fleet, the issue was how 
to bring Third Fleet up to this new task. 
CINCPAC specified that when certain 
OPLANs are activated, Third Fleet and 
USS Coronado will move forward to the 
mid and western Pacific. But USS Coron- 
ado is more than an amphibious ship 
turned flagship. The traditional role of a 
flagship was to provide fleet commanders 
with a suitable ship from which they and 
their staffs can conduct business. Today, 
the need for a flagship has been replaced 
by demands for a capable command and 
control platform. A ship required for 
joint operations must provide advanced 
levels of interoperability and connectiv- 
ity. For a start, it must quarter 25 -person 
deployable augmentation cells sent for- 
ward by CINCs to assist JTF commanders. 
Moreover, JTF spaces must be quickly 
configured to house JFACC activities in- 
cluding 15 contingency theater air con- 
trol planning system work stations. A 
flexible situation room with a plans mod- 
ule and JTF battle watch station is also 
needed to allow commanders to bring 
their key staff members together to think 
and act as a unit. 

Modification of USS Coronado will 
be completed in time for deployment to 
RIMPAC '96. Conducted every other year, 
this exercise takes training to a high level 
of combined interoperability with forces 
from up to five other nations. This year it 
will involve 48 ships, over 200 aircraft, 
and 20,000 personnel representing all 



warfare specialties. Other exercises, such 
as PAC JTFEX, also provide a valuable 
framework for friendly cooperation and 
have stabilizing effects across the entire 
Pacific Basin. Where possible, combined 
forces are fully integrated into the PAC 
JFTEX lineup to provide additional train- 
ing for all participants. Most recently, Ca- 
nadian maritime forces and ships and a 
diesel submarine from the Chilean navy 
contributed to this training experience. 

By Spring 1997 USS Coronado will be 
fully fitted-out with C 4 I systems and 
other facilities needed for deployment 
forward in the Pacific. m 



Doctrine 



JOINT DOCTRINE 
WORKING PARTY 

The 17 th meeting of the Joint Doc- 
trine Working Party (JDWP) was held on 
April 16 and 17, 1996, at the Joint 
Warfighting Center. Sponsored by the 
Joint Doctrine Division, Operational 
Plans and Interoperability Directorate 
(J-7), the meeting included representa- 
tives from service headquarters, combat- 
ant commands, Joint Staff, and doctrine 
development centers. 

In opening remarks delivered on be- 
half of CJCS, the director of the Joint 
Staff conveyed satisfaction with the ac- 
celerated pace of joint doctrinal develop- 
ment without any sacrifice in quality. He 
also spoke about the next level of joint- 
ness and its three pillars: the linkage of 
joint doctrine to joint training and plan- 
ning, the linkage of service doctrine and 
joint doctrine, and the incorporation of 
lessons learned from exercises and ongo- 
ing operations — as well as the assessment 
of approved and emerging doctrine. 



In addition to a number of new 
joint doctrine proposals which were 
briefed at the meeting, the following 
projects were approved: 

■ Joint Pub 3-13, Joint Doctrine for 
Information Warfare 

m Joint Pub 2-01.3, Joint Intelligence 
Preparation of the Battlespace 

■ Joint Pub 4-01.8, Joint Reception, Stag- 
ing , Onward Movement , and Integration (JRSOI) 

■ Joint Pub 4-01.5, Reserve Component 
Call-up (RCC) 

■ Joint Pub 1-06, Financial Management 
for Joint Operations. 

Other significant decisions made by 
JDWP include: 

■ inclusion of third party logistics 

■ rules of engagement (ROE) develop- 
ment guidance 

■ joint doctrine for risk management in 
joint operations 

■ a definition and discussion of com- 
manders' critical information requirements 
(CCIR) 

■ a revision of Joint Pub 3-55.1, Joint 
Tactics , Techniques , and Procedures (JTTP) for 
Unmanned Aerial Vehicles , to be staffed prior to 
reformatting 

■ a title change of Joint Pub 1-0, Doc- 
trine for Personnel and Administrative Support to 
Joint Operations to Doctrine for Personnel Support 
to Joint Operations 

Moreover, JDWP agreed to assess 
Joint Pub 3-05.3, Joint Special Operations 
Operational Procedures; Joint Pub 3-05.5, 
Joint Special Operations Targeting and Mis- 
sion Planning Procedures; Joint Pub 3-07.4, 
Joint Counterdrug Operations; Joint Pub 

3- 56.1, Command and Control of Joint Air 
Operations; Joint Pub 3-58, Doctrine for 
Joint Operational Deception; Joint Pub 

4- 01.3, Joint Tactics , Techniques , and Proce- 
dures (JTTP) for Joint Movement Control. 



Joint Doctrine 

on the World Wide Web 

In an effort to enchance awareness of and 
increase access to joint doctrine, a World 
Wide Web site has been established at 
http://www.dtic.mil/doctrine. For more 
information, contact the Joint Doctrine 
Division (J-7), Joint Staff, at (703) 61 4-6469 / 
DSN 224-6469. JIQ 



Mu- Mi*, i (l : 



fur 

ill I I ht:j|i. r 
ANulli; 

II 



t'ftmjii ■ i 



128 JFQ / Winter 1995-96 







THE JOINT WORLD ■ 



Of special interest were two infor- 
mation briefs: 

■ "Joint Doctrine and the Internet" — 
all unclassified joint doctrine pubs are now 
available on the internet via the World Wide 
Web (see the display advertisement on the 
facing page). 

■ "Writing for Joint Force Quarterly ” — the 
JFQ Forum in the Winter 1996-97 issue of the 
journal will contain contributions on joint 
doctrine by combatant commanders and 
service chiefs. 

The next meeting is scheduled for 
Autumn 1996 at the Joint Warfighting 
Center. JFQ 



JOINT PUBS UPDATE 

The following joint publications 
have recently been approved: 

■ Joint Pub 3-50.2, Doctrine for Joint 
Combat Search and Rescue, consolidates joint 
and service doctrine into a single-source of 
guidance and procedures for timely, measured 
responses for combat search and rescue 
(January 26, 1996). 

■ Joint Pub 3-13.1, Joint Doctrine for 
Command and Control Warfare , is focused — but 
is not intended to provide comprehensive doc- 
trine — on command and control warfare in 
support of the broader concept of information 
warfare (February 7, 1996). 

■ Joint Pub 3-12.1, Joint Theater Nuclear 
Operations , contains guidance for nonstrategic 
nuclear force employment (February 9, 1996). 

■ Joint Pub 3-12.3, Nuclear Weapons Em- 
ployment Data , volume 2, includes technical 
procedures and unclassified weapons effects 
data on nonstrategic nuclear weapons employ- 
ment (February 14, 1996). 

■ Joint Pub 3-01.5, Joint Theater Missile 

Defense , furnishes doctrine to counter theater 
missile threats, with particular emphasis on 
the growing threat from developing nations — 
and the U.S. ability to protect vital national 
interests against such threats (February 22, 
1996). JK* 



Education 



NEW PME POLICY 

The Chairman has approved a new 
professional military education (PME) 
policy document, Officer Professional Mili- 
tary Education Policy (OPMEP), to coordi- 
nate career JPME for officers. OPMEP is 
the latest in a series of policy documents. 
The impact of the Goldwater-Nichols leg- 
islation on JPME was reinforced in hear- 
ings held by the Panel on Military Educa- 
tion of the House Armed Services 
Committee between 1987 and 1989. In 
response, the Joint Staff, services, and 



National Defense University (NDU) de- 
veloped the Military Education Policy 
Document (MEPD) in 1990. That docu- 
ment, and a 1993 revision, specified edu- 
cational requirements for joint specialty 
officer (JSO) nomination. 

Unlike previous policy, OPMEP does 
not focus exclusively on educational re- 
quirements for JSOs. OPMEP calls for 
JPME from the precommissioning level 
(in service academies, ROTC, and OCS/ 
OTS) to the NDU Capstone Course for 
new general and flag officers. Extending 
JPME to the precommissioning and pri- 
mary levels was a key suggestion in the 
CJCS JPME Panel Report (see letter from 
Brig Gen Baker in JFQ, Summer 95). It is 
arguably the most significant education 
policy change contained in OPMEP. 
Moreover, the Office of the Secretary of 
Defense, Joint Staff, and services fully 
agreed on the need for a "cradle-to- 
grave" career approach to JPME. 

JPME, like service PME, is a sequen- 
tial and progressive system where each 
education level builds on knowledge got- 
ten from the previous level. At the pre- 
commissioning level, students gain a 
basic awareness of joint matters. This 
knowledge is expanded to issues of force 
application and integration on the tacti- 
cal, operational, and strategic levels in 
later primary, intermediate, and senior 
PME, respectively, while Capstone exam- 
ines key aspects of warfighting and strat- 
egy integration. 

OPMEP capitalizes on this structure 
and has substantially more emphasis on 
joint doctrine, multinational operations, 
technology, systems integration, and in- 
novative thinking for winning war in fu- 
ture battlespace. Moreover, these areas 



and the changing nature of warfare have 
been captured in the new Joint Vision 
2010 which OPMEP fully supports. 

Over the next several years, JPME ef- 
forts will continue to tackle the changing 
demands of joint warfare. Updated policy 
will address how new, high-leverage con- 
cepts such as C 4 ISR and information war- 
fare compete with more traditional mili- 
tary operations within curricula. 
Education technology — computer based, 
interactive, deskside instruction; telesem- 
inars; advanced wargaming and simula- 
tion; increased access to research data- 
bases — will be exploited to bring 
enhanced JPME to wider audiences on a 
timely basis. Enlisted JPME policy will 
also become a reality in the future. Joint 
curricular development will provide ser- 
vice schools and colleges at every level 
with professional course material tailored 
to their missions and requirements. JFQ 



PME HISTORY 

The U.S. Air Force Academy will 
host a military history symposium enti- 
tled "Rites of Passage: Educating and 
Training Junior Officers in the Twentieth 
Century" on November 20-22, 1996. For 
further information, contact: Major Kern, 
HQ USAFA/DFH, 2354 Fairchild Drive 
(Suite 6F37), USAF Academy, Colorado 
80840-6246; telephone: (719) 472-4727/ 
FAX: (719) 472-2970; or via Internet: 
kerntt.scs@usafa.af.mil. m 



Don't Forget . . . 

THE SECOND ANNUAL 

Joint Force Quarterly 

ESSAY CONTEST ON THE 

Revolution 

in Military Affairs 

All entries must be postmarked no later than 

August 31, 1996. 

See page 8 for details. 



Winter 1995-96 / JFQ 129 





■ off the shelf 



MORAL OBLIGATION 
VERSUS "BEEPER 
ETHICS" 

A Review Essay by 

WILLIAM G. O'NEILL 



Foundations of Moral Obligation: 
The Stockdale Course 

by Joseph Gerard Brennan 
Novato, California: Presidio Press, 1994. 
269 pp. $14.95 
[ISBN 0-89141-528-9] 

True Faith and Allegiance: 

The Burden of Military Ethics 

by James H. Toner 
Lexington: University Press 
of Kentucky, 1995. 

202 pp. $25.00 
[ISBN 0-8131-1881-6] 



T wo recent books on military ethics 
approach their theme from the stand- 
point of providing both students of 
ethics and members of the Armed Forces 
with a broader context of intellectual tra- 
dition, social mores, and educated values. 
Foundations of Moral Obligation: The Stock- 
dale Course by Joseph Gerard Brennan, 
emeritus professor of philosophy at 
Barnard College, consists of lectures pre- 
sented at the Naval War College. True 
Faith and Allegiance: The Burden of Military 
Ethics by James H. Toner, who teaches at 
the Air War College, provides the views 
of a political theorist on the special situa- 
tion of soldiers, sailors, marines, and air- 
men as servicemembers and as citizens of 
a wider society. While neither volume is 
a detailed ethics text nor an investigation 
of a category of particular problems in 
military ethics, both instruct the inquirer 
into military ethics and offer means of 
revalidating one's ethical moorings. 

Cynicism about the incompatibility 
of a particular walk of life or profession 
with ethics is hard to ward off. Military 
ethics faces a similar challenge. At the 
outset it must be understood that mili- 
tary ethics or other special ethics does 
not stand in isolation from the rest of 
philosophy and is not fundamentally sui 
generis. Even moral philosophy itself does 
not stand in isolation from the rest of 
philosophy nor from the lofty concerns 
which preoccupy moral theologians. 



William G. O'Neill teaches philosophy and 
is former department chair at Iona College. 



Conscience for an individual soldier 
is a dimension of mind and heart and 
cannot by nature be a dedicated instru- 
ment of duty or professional motives. 
Conscience is inherently a judgment not 
only about a given action or policy, but 
also about what kind of person one in- 
tends to be, about the quality of charac- 
ter one actually intends to possess. Ethics 
in the last analysis serve that choice of 
character and, at their best, reinforce it in 
outstanding and difficult cases as well as 
amidst what may be the everyday welter 
of conflicting demands. 

Although neither book represents a 
course in specific applied ethics, Toner 
offers some brief illustrative cases; and 
while neither author details the intrica- 
cies of particularly pressing ethical prob- 
lems, Toner's general theme is the ques- 
tion of the sometimes conflicting 
loyalties of the conscientious warrior and 
conscientious citizen. But an important 
factor is that both books provide an im- 
portant corrective to a growing trend in 
works on ethics to circumscribe the dis- 
cussion of ethics to the management of 
conduct or to the establishment of con- 
ventional rules within a profession or 
sector in terms of which its members can 
agree to interpret ethical questions. 

This bias threatens to make right 
and wrong, good and evil, and values 
themselves simply artifacts of a propri- 
etary internal debate in varied profes- 
sions or fields of endeavor. In the mili- 
tary, the trend could be exemplified by 
setting values in light of the debate over 
the proximate causes of a war or conduct 
of a campaign. The problem might be 
seen in a crude analogy: in order to be a 
good driver a mastery of traffic ordi- 
nances — such as speed limits, turning on 
red, etc. — is not adequate if one does not 
know the route to a destination. For 
philosophers, who since the fourth cen- 
tury B.C. have taken the dominant role 
in the ethical education of society from 
the poets and dramatists, questions of ul- 
timate ends or ultimate meaning cannot 
be evaded. 

Both Brennan and Toner address 
ethical education as an undertaking of 
great importance. Education in ethics, of 
course, is crucial wherever teaching takes 
place. Any form of education communi- 
cates values for learners to either accept 
or react against. Ethical education of 
members of the Armed Forces is an espe- 
cially important concern in our society. 

Such education is a matter of moral 
meaning. Meaning is profoundly linked 
with context. Not only is it impossible to 
find such meaning solely through spe- 
cialized courses in ethics — outside the 



general context of moral thought — but it 
cannot be adequately approached be- 
yond broader contexts of the nature of 
reality, the good, and truth and knowl- 
edge. This also includes large segments of 
intellectual tradition. Without such well- 
rooted orientation, moral or ethical edu- 
cation may dwell primarily on the fail- 
ings and evils of contemporary society. 
That may create an attitude that over 
time becomes an antithesis to secular 
ideas and practice; in effect, a self-en- 
dowed sense of purity amid decline. 

Footfalls of History 

Foundations of Moral Obligation is a 
survey of moral philosophy inspired by 
the ordeal of Admiral James Stockdale as a 
POW in Vietnam. Later, when president of 
the Naval War College, Stockdale collabo- 
rated with Brennan in developing a course 
based on that experience. The book's 
chapters are lessons, lectures, and major 
themes from the course. Of special note is 
the manner in which biographical details 
are woven into the presentations. Intellec- 
tual history and philosophical theories are 
seen as derived from and inspired by the 
lives and times of great persons. 

Initially, historical examples are 
given to show the profound effect of 
prison isolation on individuals. In these 
situations, those capable of profound re- 
flection decide on fundamental options 
for living. A transformation of soul can 
emerge providing ultimate meaning for 
one's future. The conviction that it is bet- 
ter to suffer evil than to commit it be- 
comes essential. Brennan begins by ex- 
ploring the resolution that can emerge to 
forsake dark ignorance, as in the example 
of Plato's cave. 

Basic to the background of a moral 
education is the question: what does one 
say or think about evil? Brennan then 
poses the timeless problem of how to un- 
derstand the existence of an all-knowing, 
all-powerful, all-gracious God as creator 
and Father of a world awash in hideous 
evils, including deliberate moral deprav- 
ity — which frequently victimizes the 
most innocent and helpless of mankind. 
One confronts a decision between the 
gnostic view that there is a dualism of 
good and evil powers governing reality, 
or the Augustinian view that evil is not a 
positive force but rather an absence of or 
distance from the moral order and the 
goodness of God. Ultimately the answer 
to this problem is seen to lie in signifi- 
cant measure in the extirpating of self as 
primary in the world and in seeing the 
interrelatedness of all of our sufferings. 

What does one say or think of love? 
This is another fundamental question in 



130 JFQ / Spring 1996 




OFF THE SHELF ■ 




the background of moral thought. Is love 
to be eros, an attraction to beauty in the 
classical Greek sense, or is it to be agape, 
the selfless love of Christ in his sufferings 
and teachings? There is both a difference 
and a tension between these two aspects 
and ultimately, in the richness of me- 
dieval theology, religious traditions are 
shown to have presented the more pow- 
erful selfless love as the driving force of 
the universe. 

Happiness is next explored as the 
end for which everything else is sought 
or done. Aristotle's formal teleological 
view is explored as the basis for his doc- 
trine of virtue and character formation. 
Character is a key to happiness, through 
both the moral and intellectual virtues. 
Thus understood it is the development of 
the soul, the full realization of a human. 
This profound sense of fulfillment is not 
mere self-actualization or feeling good 
about oneself, but the actualization of 
the fullness of human nature. Both prac- 
tical wisdom and intellect are introduced 
as the faculty of human moral knowing 
and development. Virtue in this way is 
personal and also social. 

Moving to the philosophy of Im- 
manuel Kant, Brennan explores the cru- 
cial concept of duty. Kant, a man of the 
Enlightenment, saw freedom as the 
essence of the moral self. Therefore duty 
for its own sake, rather than simply for 
the results achieved, is what is morally 
meaningful. Acts of moral worth are the 
acts of a rational being with a motive of 
duty. Moral decisions are made, moral 
acts are done, not because it is good pol- 
icy but simply because it is right. Moral 
worth arises directly from the will seek- 
ing good. Ethics is sovereign and self-jus- 
tifying because it is not an aspect of psy- 
chology or sociology. Ultimately, ethical 
decisions are made on categorically uni- 
versal principles such that one never 
makes an exception for oneself nor for 
the case at hand and never treats oneself 
or another person purely as a means in- 
stead of an end. 

The principles of utilitarianism fol- 
low through a critique of the life of John 
Stuart Milk Brennan is remarkably effec- 
tive in presenting utilitarianism in regard 
to issues that matter the most. He offers a 
refreshingly humane and well-drawn 
view of this strain of philosophy which 
stresses Mill's focus on the social well- 
being of all. In addition to analyzing the 
concepts of pleasure and pain, benefit 
and harm, he emphasizes the central im- 
portance of freedom and liberty and the 
great worth, value, and beauty of the 
common good. 



Subsequent chapters in the course 
explore special dimensions of philosoph- 
ical insight into key issues relevant to a 
moral orientation. The existentialism of 
Jean Paul Sartre and Albert Camus with 
its emphasis on individualism and free- 
dom are examined. Sartre proclaims the 
fundamental irrationality of moral 
choices because such choices are those 
for which no true determining right rea- 
son can be provided. There are — in the 
case of the rugged and free individual — 
no excuses or extenuating circumstances. 
The most important thing is, as in Stock- 
dale's imprisonment, what a man has 
done with what was done to him. Like 
Camus' absurd man, one "fights back" 
and in some sense succeeds by cramming 
as much living as possible into whatever 
life one has. 

Leninism and Soviet thought are ex- 
plored in their materialistic and dialecti- 
cal foundations and their strictly protec- 
tive anti-relativism. Evolutionary theory 
is also seen to provide insights of a foun- 
dational nature, coming from Charles 
Darwin, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the 
Leakeys, etc. One's stance on evolution 
depends upon an ultimate belief either 
that all is the result of mindless chance 
in a complicated physical set of systems, 
or that all is a process of directed teleo- 
logical change. Finally, the life and work 
of Ludwig Wittgenstein are reviewed by 
focusing on the crucial silence underly- 
ing aspects of the intellectual roots of 
making choices. Whereof one cannot 
speak one must keep silent. Some things, 
in effect, cannot be said but only shown. 



As these lectures unfold there are 
points where Brennan's explanations 
(but not Stockdale's inspiring ideas) are 
too tangential for an introduction to 
moral philosophy. But Brennan's style is 
replete with anecdotes as well as literary, 
scientific, and historical allusions. There- 
fore some philosophical extravagance is 
excusable. Also, one might regard the 
course as a scattered version of an intro- 
duction to moral philosophy rather than 
a closely ordered system. But his gener- 
ally historical order is still a palpable 
structure overall. The cumulative effect, 
in any case, is a number of memorable 
high points. They inspire reflection and 
give a sense of the depth to the study of 
ethics, especially for those beginning a 
study of moral philosophy. 

General and Specific 

True Faith and Allegiance aims to link 
an understanding of the military profes- 
sion with the general field of ethics. 

Toner proceeds from his conviction that 
soldiers can be moral and therefore must 
be moral. Hence, he seeks to present 
foundational ideas and a sourcebook on 
military ethics. His approach is to chart a 
course between two popularly if care- 
lessly subscribed extreme notions: that 
the military is not and cannot be ethical 
by the very nature of its activity and 
commitment, and that anything the mil- 
itary may do is always ethical because all 
is fair in war. Toner sees his work as a cor- 
rective to the skeptical aspect of modern 
ethical texts which, in addition to their 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 131 




■ off the shelf 



confusing language, fail to instill a sense 
that there is such a thing as moral turpi- 
tude to be strictly avoided. 

Military ethics rests upon a triad: 
evil indeed exists and should be resisted 
by force; there are such things as human 
duty, obligation, and responsibility; and 
appreciation of virtue is vitally important 
and must be inculcated by both word 
and deed. Summarily, military ethics is 
the study of what is honorable and what 
is shameful conduct in military service. 

To undertake such a study one must at- 
tack the moral nihilism seen throughout 
society and adhere to examples of good 
individuals who stand out. It is the clar- 
ion call of a crusade. 

In the opening chapter Toner out- 
lines his approach to ethical study: ethics 
is a standard of right and wrong conduct 
focusing on our behavior as well as that 
of others. Ethics is not only descriptive 
but prescriptive and so is not relativistic. 
He iterates a theme which is repeated 
later that contemporary American society 
fails in many areas of values and accom- 
plishment: mores, art, education, popular 
culture, film, et al. However there are 
sources of ethics which can be tapped in 
studying what is right and wrong for the 
military: customs, rules, goals or out- 
comes (teleological sources), and circum- 
stances (situationism). The development 
of character involves the struggle to do 
what should be done. The reader is to 
conclude that truly right-thinking people 
will do better at ethical understanding 
and character development than will so- 
ciety at large. 

In the discussion of military subor- 
dination to constitutional sovereignty, 
the soldier is seen as accepting responsi- 
bility for the safety of the body politic 
whereas the rest of society generally does 
not. The distinct and unique task of the 
military involves being trained to kill for 
a committed cause. This is correlated to 
the requirement of being prepared to die 
for that same cause. Hence, the safety of 
the lives of one's troops or one's own life 
is not a first priority in war. While this 
has not been strictly observed in some 
cases, it remains a sacred measure of loy- 
alty in the military. 

This is a fidelity beset by certain 
dilemmas. It involves obeying constitu- 
tional precepts. But whose interpreta- 
tion? Generally one is responsible to a 
higher authority, though not always. 
Conscience dictates and duty demands 
that wrong orders, either illegal or clearly 
immoral, should not be followed. Respon- 
deat superior is not an absolutely univer- 
sal principle. Some things are too shame- 
ful for debate and should not be done 



under a guise of obedience. Loyalty to 
the Nation is crucial, but not to an indi- 
vidual concept of national interest. Loy- 
alty depends on a well formed con- 
science, not upon strength of will or 
conviction alone. 

Military Education 

In this discussion, the distinction is 
made between professional military edu- 
cation (PME), which is focused on values 
and deals with people, and military train- 
ing, which is about skills and concerned 
with things. But training must never be 
divorced from education on values. 

There is an obligation for the Armed 
Lorces to provide rigorous training to the 
level of true competence — not only in 
warfighting but, especially for officers, in 
judgment and intellectual acuity. 

PME, as distinct from training, ap- 
propriately involves fidelity to purpose as 
its principal orientation to values. This 
speaks to the tension between obeying 
legal orders without hesitation but not 
obeying illegal ones. Toner examines ten 
cases, eight recorded instances and two 
fictional. They deal with conflicts center- 
ing on mistreatment of prisoners and 
killing prisoners or hostages, atrocities in 
war, and hazards to military trainees or 
troops in actual combat. The cases all 
question whether to follow or not to fol- 
low orders. 

The general schema is to see respon- 
sibility or loyalty arranged hierarchically: 
first, loyalty to principles; second, loyalty 
to purpose (the mission, rationale, or ob- 
jective); and third, loyalty to persons, in- 
dividuals, groups, or masses. In this con- 
text one must realize that persons are 
often the substance of the principle 
which governs or the purpose at hand. 
Clarity remains important. 

Cautions are sounded about ex- 
tremes in military culture, the evils of 
egoism — personal and professional — and 
the entrepreneurial ethic. Moreover, six 
tests of right and wrong are proposed: 
shame, community, legal, situation, con- 
sequences, and God. These tests pro- 
posed by Toner, however, usually are 
seen as elements of reflection, the mo- 
ment of ethical deliberation before the 
fact of decision. They raise red flags prior 
to a decision rather than acting as a lit- 
mus for rightness or wrongness, honor or 
shame. The text concludes with useful 
recommendations on teaching ethics in 
the military. 



Codes of Ethics 

The primary challenge to contem- 
porary ethics in America is said to be an 
excessive desire for status and wealth. 
One is encouraged to deduce that oppos- 
ing cupidity succeeds programmatically 
in the world and gives the military an 
ethical edge. In any case, the current 
state of values in this country reveals the 
need for the traditional cardinal virtues 
of prudence, temperance, fortitude, and 
justice. This is important because much 
evil is actually within the individual's 
disposition, not just in the external 
world of actions. Society is morally autis- 
tic, and its values are massively at vari- 
ance with those required by military cul- 
ture, an account that makes soldiers 
appear somewhat messianic. 

In applying the thesis of faith and 
allegiance to issues affecting the military, 
Toner provides an ethical analysis of cer- 
tain key questions. Should women serve 
in combat? The answer is yes, but not in 
the infantry or on submarines. Should 
homosexuals serve in the military? The 
answer is no to flagrant homosexuals be- 
cause the military exists in a society 
which generally disapproves of homosex- 
uality as a way of life. About fraterniza- 
tion, warnings are given in terms of gen- 
eral ethics and special military aspects. 
About resignation, the judgment is that 
it should be exercised rarely and with 
careful consideration. 

Military education is a general 
theme in both books under review. Ethics 
and morality are always essentially about 
the good life, and they prompt us to con- 
template on what the good life is. Such 
reflection is important for the things 
which one fights to defend anyway. 

Moral education or values education is 
not simply inculcation nor is it some sort 
of psychology of values. At its best and 
when most fitting, it is a rational founda- 
tion provided through an exploration 
and critique of values in the context of a 
philosophical course. 

The Reactive School 

Ethics is always about truth at the 
level of the meaning of life. To propose, 
as is the vogue, that one can approach 
ethics simply as a dimension of manage- 
ment, as setting out the rules while 
claiming little more than that certain 
things work well in getting the job done 
without ignominy or complication, is in- 
sufficient. When examining any profes- 
sion or field of endeavor we can learn an 
important point: if its ethics are simply 
about that activity, then it is not an au- 
tonomous study or concern and it makes 



132 JFQ / Spring 1996 



OFF THE SHELF ■ 



the sense of right and wrong an internal 
element or creature of that group and en- 
terprise. Ethics of 11 [fill in the blank]” is a 
factitious conception. The study or disci- 
pline of such an ethics, among other dif- 
ficulties, would tend to develop largely in 
response to the characteristics of emerg- 
ing conflicts and have priorities deter- 
mined by the typical malefactor or viola- 
tor. Ethics, to be rational, must be in a 
significant degree autonomously 
grounded. 

Deficiencies in education on moral 
values leave us open to networks of 
rationalizations on conscience. Some of 
the most bothersome of these come from 
the teleopathic (excessively devoted to a 
cause or purpose) bent of mind which in- 
clines people to extremes in pursuit of 
corporate goals or profits by any promis- 
ing strategy. Personally, teleopathy — as 
expounded by Kenneth Goodpaster — be- 
comes excessive devotion to career, to ad- 
vancement through gradations of goals 
during a professional life. For the sake of 
corporate goals or career, no amount 
of overtime, supererogation, or neglect 
of personal concerns or duties can be 
thought to be utterly blameworthy. Being 
a team player or getting ahead overrides 
all. 

Loyalties can have bad as well as 
good properties. They can be mature as 
well as immature in focus and degree of 
dedication. In ethical reasoning such fail- 
ings can lead to rigorous or quasi-legalis- 
tic elaboration of technicalities and rules 
divorced from fuller human reality and 
substituted in place of a well-grounded 
ethics and morality. Just as ethics cannot 
be ultimately subordinated to any other 
system or purpose neither can ethical or 
moral education be a subordinate part of 
some system of courses. Often moral the- 
ory is relegated to one or two chapters in 
a book on the ethics of "[/z ll in the blank].” 

Beeper Ethics 

The phenomenon sometimes called 
"beeper ethics" (a term introduced by 
Arthur L. Caplan) is a manifestation of 
another systematic difficulty. To illustrate 
this point, think of ethicists jumping 
into the midst of conflicts or doubt. Ethi- 
cists on the staffs of hospitals and mental 
institutions frequently find the on-the- 
spot aspect of decisions taxing. Medical 
professionals often regard analytical ap- 
proaches and reflective considerations to 
be impractical and unhelpful. Policies 
with the most impact on actual ethical 
performance in such situations are fre- 
quently handed down as decisions by 



medical committees or senior practition- 
ers and deal with procedures for emer- 
gencies, triage, referral to courts, termina- 
tion of treatment, etc. 

In the business world, even where 
codes of ethics are enshrined and ethi- 
cists are engaged through the medium of 
a vice president for corporate ethics and 
values, major policies with some of the 
greatest ethical impact on employees or 
customers are often decided directly by 
the most senior managers and top level 
executives. Such decisions usually in- 
volve personnel administration as well as 
customer relations and advertizing. Deci- 
sions on downsizing, plant closures, and 
technological change also arise under 
special circumstances. Operative values 
too frequently flow directly from the 
highly situated principle of maximizing 
profits. 

Some of the most useful contribu- 
tions of ethicists in the professional or 
business world are likely to be in advanc- 
ing national policies and legislation 
which incorporate an ethical orientation 
at a general level and focus on the com- 
mon good and overall quality of life. 
Questions of ethics or morality at base 
have to do with wisdom and virtue and 
are not only concerned with the best way 
of doing something but with what is 
worth doing. When wisdom and virtuous 
principle are well understood, our most 
important and efficacious institutions 
and activities can be related to these. 

A person needs to be "about some- 
thing" at his or her core and feel deeply 
why some things are worthwhile and oth- 
ers are worth everything. Whether a per- 
son resolves this well or poorly, rightly or 
wrongly, the effort is crucial to being fully 
human. It is especially important in the 
case of members of the Armed Forces as 
well as others for whom honor is quintes- 
sential. Conscience, duty, orders, leader- 
ship, professionalism, loyalty, courage, 
and judgment — and their evil opposite 
qualities — all derive from the inner devel- 
opment of a person. This progress may be 
advanced in silence and solitude, through 
reflection, or amidst a profusion of diffi- 
cult, even stressful activities. 

The works reviewed provide impor- 
tant foundational material for ethical ed- 
ucation. People of honor will search for 
outstanding persons as models. They will 
seek principles as ideals for forming con- 
science and understanding their personal 
dedication to duty and the need to do the 
right thing. In the course of ethical edu- 
cation it is of utmost importance that a 
dialogue continues among special ethi- 
cists, philosophers generally, and intellec- 



tuals more generally. Toner's work seeks 
to foster values by a rigorous education. 
He warns soldiers that even great profes- 
sional competency without education in 
values can lead to a My Lai massacre. 

This concern is, of course, es- 
timable. Training and technical skills do 
demand education in values at a founda- 
tional level. But it is the particular inten- 
tionality that needs careful considera- 
tion. Toner's education in values is a 
determined course toward getting stu- 
dents to believe those specific things 
which he feels they must. This set of be- 
liefs is auditioned for us in his jeremiad 
descrying the squalid state of common 
American values and, to a degree, our 
culture. 

Because ethical education must be 
profoundly based on a commitment to 
values, so must values be intellectually 
grounded in some ultimate conviction 
about a worldview, a profound sense of 
the meaning of life and human con- 
sciousness and knowledge. Values are not 
to be engineered to fit an agenda estab- 
lished at the level of these values them- 
selves. We cannot assume the bases of 
values at the start of education in values. 
Toner has designated training as appro- 
priate to skills and education as appropri- 
ate to values. But without the initial in- 
tellectual exploration as a propaedeutic, 
the result would be "values training." 

Values are most appropriate when 
they appeal to our reason as the bases of 
our will and emotion. Insight into truth 
and meaning are integral to a commit- 
ment to values, for well-founded dedica- 
tion and allegiance. The depth and 
breadth of Brennan's intellectual offer- 
ings, as well as Stockdale's reflection on 
his detention and conversion, provide 
both excellent conceptual underpinnings 
and substantial motivation for values ed- 
ucation. The search for meaning at depth 
characterizes their approach. One should 
start here before exploring faith and 
allegiance. JPQ 



Missing an Issue? 

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Spring 1996 / JFQ 133 



■ off the shelf 



A JUBILEE FOR 
AIRMEN 

A Book Review by 

THOMAS A. KEANEY 



Air Power: A Centennial Appraisal 

by Tony Mason 
London: Brassey's, 1994. 

320 pp. £30.00 
[ISBN 1-85753-069-1] 



A s the surge of publications and events 
commemorating the anniversary of 
World War II subsides, two dates in avia- 
tion history are prompting their own ret- 
rospectives: the 50 th birthday of the U.S. 
Air Force in 1997 and the 100 th anniver- 
sary of the first flight by the Wright 
Brothers in 2003. 

Tony Mason, a retired air vice mar- 
shal of the Royal Air Force and the au- 
thor of a number of books on airpower, 
describes the history of military airpower 
from 1893 to 1993 in Air Power, A Centen- 
nial Appraisal. Anniversaries aside, this 
volume comes at an important moment 
for a U.S. audience, particularly consider- 
ing the debate over the strategic role of 
airpower and what components of it are 
needed in force structure of the future. 

Despite the success of airpower in 
the Gulf War, the subsequent drawdown 
of U.S. forces presents some unanswered 
questions. Did Desert Storm show air- 
power at its maximum potential or is it 
at the dawn of a revolution in military 
technology in which it will become even 
more dominant? Do more recent military 
operations in Somalia and Bosnia reveal a 
more realistic picture of what is ahead? 
Will U.S. preeminence in the air face fu- 
ture challenges and what form will they 
take? Mason provides context for exam- 
ining these questions. He singles out the 
United States as having "differential" air- 
power — a capacity well beyond any com- 
bination of other countries — and draws 
important lessons about our past and in- 
dicates where we should be going. 

Mason dates airpower from a lecture 
given in 1893 by Major J.D. Fullerton of 
the British army to military engineers 
meeting in Chicago. He prophesied that 
aeronautics would bring "as great a revo- 
lution in the art of war as the discovery 
of gunpowder," that "future wars may 
well start with a great air battle," and 
that "command of the air would be an 



Thomas A. Keaney teaches military strategy 
and operations at the National War College. 



essential prerequisite for all land and air 
warfare." These remarks, made ten years 
before the Wright Brothers flew, embody 
a recurring theme of airpower's first cen- 
tury: the "promise" of airpower technol- 
ogy, given well in advance of actual 
achievement. Mason also cites it as a cau- 
tion for the future. His ability to draw on 
such themes and to synthesize aircraft 
and doctrinal development makes this a 
truly superior study. 

Not solely a history of airpower nor 
speculation on the future, Centennial Ap- 
praisal shows Mason equally at home 
dealing with both. His coverage of avia- 
tion history is skewed to the latter half of 
the century and deals with aspects of air- 
power not normally emphasized. The 
half century of airpower through World 
War II occupies less than a quarter of the 
book. More recent conflicts such as oper- 
ations over Bosnia and in the Arab-Israeli 
wars and the Gulf War (as seen from 
both the Iraqi and coalition perspectives) 
receive more analysis. No doubt reflect- 
ing his interests, Mason devotes more at- 
tention to the role of airpower in NATO 
and Warsaw Pact strategies than to the 
Korean and Vietnam Wars combined. 
Throughout, his analysis is incisive and 
well argued. Only one section needs a 
qualifier, a chapter on airpower and arms 
control. The focus is limited to negotia- 
tions on the Conventional Forces in Eu- 
rope (CFE) Treaty and aircraft-counting 
rules for it. There exists no more lucid 
discussion of the treaty, but its applica- 
tion to airpower in general and to arms 
control is minimal. 

Particularly timely is the chapter on 
peacekeeping operations. Mason writes 
about ongoing operations in Bosnia 
(using mainly 1993 and 1994 newspaper 
accounts as sources) and attempts to 
reach conclusions on the relative advan- 
tages and disadvantages of airpower in 
that environment. His examination of is- 
sues, such as the effectiveness of offen- 
sive airpower in those circumstances and 
the role of airlift, provides an excellent 
starting point for debate. Even after two 
further years of experience in the 
Balkans, his observations have not been 
overtaken by events. 

But in arriving at his conclusions, 
Mason runs into a common dilemma: 
limited scope. He interprets peacekeeping 
as involving humanitarian assistance, 
protection, self-defense, and peace-en- 
forcement (not further defined). His task 
is thus to look for commonality in events 
ranging from the Gulf War to Somalia. 
Only recently has literature on peace op- 
erations (and military doctrine in partic- 
ular) begun to delineate this field. 



Readers looking for indications of 
the revolution in military affairs will find 
Mason careful in his judgments and per- 
haps somewhat of a traditionalist. He 
calls for even more emphasis on the elec- 
tronic warfare environment and extols 
the value of satellites as well as un- 
manned vehicles (but sees a continued 
dependence on manned aircraft). His 
faith in technology is tempered by his 
look at other periods in this century, 
comparing the dominance of the F-117 
in the Gulf with the fleeting dominance 
of the German Gotha bomber in 1917 
and the British Mosquito during the latter 
stages of World War II. 

If there is a revolution, Mason finds 
it in the preeminence of U.S. "differential 
airpower" that is derived from superiority 
in four areas: an aerospace industrial 
base, a capacity for research and develop- 
ment, the ability and inclination of a 
government to allocate resources for an 
air force, and the size and quality of that 
force. He cites the United States as the 
only nation that can meet all the criteria 
and claim overwhelming preeminence. 
Such superiority is more vital and long 
lasting to Mason than any technological 
advantage. But no preeminence goes un- 
challenged, and he sees Russia as the 
most likely U.S. competitor. Mason de- 
votes an entire chapter to reconstitution 
of the Russian aircraft industrial base 
and reorganization of its air force. In 
China he detects potential for regional 
dominance but not the capability to 
close the airpower differential with the 
United States. 

The particular strength of this book 
is Mason's comprehension of the neces- 
sary elements of airpower. Beyond num- 
bers, he understands the nature of factors 
ranging from personnel policies to the 
need for well-developed aerial refueling. 
Using the history of airpower he con- 
cludes that its proponents must stop rely- 
ing on the promise of things to come 
and stand or fall "like any other military 
power, by its relevance to, and ability to 
secure, political objectives at a cost ac- 
ceptable to the government of the day." 

The insight and solid analysis found 
in this book make it an important contri- 
bution to any discussion on the future of 
airpower in the United States or else- 
where. An unabashed advocate himself, 
Mason succeeds in portraying airpower 
in a national context, urging his readers 
to get beyond either zealotry for airpower 
or the residual parochialism in armies 
and navies against its independence. JPQ 



134 JFQ / Spring 1996 




OFF THE SHELF ■ 



OF CABALS AND 
COMPLOTS 

A Book Review by 

JAMES L. ZACKRISON 



The Plot to Annihilate the 
Armed Forces and the Nations 
of Ibero-America 

Washington: Executive Intelligence 
Review News Service, Inc., 1994. 
391 pp. $15.00 
[ISBN 0-943235-11-1] 



I t is easy to dismiss the theme of this 
book as yet another odd conspiracy 
theory. After all, the blurb on the back 
cover tells us that the introduction is by 
"U.S. economist and former political pris- 
oner" Lyndon H. LaRouche. I would sus- 
pect this publication has not sold well in 
the United States: a search of a library 
network showed only three holdings of 
the title in the country. Yet it has sold 
thousands of copies in Latin America, 
and the Mexican military printed a spe- 
cial edition of more than 500 copies. It is 
reportedly on the required reading list at 
several regional military academies and 
staff colleges. Students of Latin American 
affairs will ignore this book to their own 
detriment. But if it is only a LaRouche 
conspiracy, why is it attracting attention 
among Latin American readers? 

The answer is in its alternative defin- 
ition of terms used in works on civil-mili- 
tary relations. If one accepts this ersatz 
jargon, most of the book makes sense. For 
instance, there is a lot of discussion in the 
United States over the proper roles and 
missions of the armed forces of Latin 
America. There are specialists and policy 
wonks who think that the money spent 
on the militaries in the region would be 
better applied to other government func- 
tions. There are those who think that 
there is no credible regional threat to the 
sovereignty of the nations in the hemi- 
sphere, so their armed forces should be 
dismantled. There are academics men- 
tioned throughout this book who meet 
regularly and present papers on such top- 
ics. But it stretches credulity to accept 
that these facts combine to form a con- 
spiracy. 



James L. Zackrison is an analyst with the 
Office of Naval Intelligence and currently 
a visiting fellow at the National Defense 
University. 



The opening section of The Plot 
spells out its underlying hypothesis in de- 
tail. Essentially there are two conflicting 
axiomatic social systems. One, based on 
paganism, posits that man is an animal, 
or is barely lifted above animals, or per- 
haps is even a superior animal or "some- 
thing of that sort." Man can, through 
some kind of special magic, rise above de- 
pravity to become a demigod. The second 
system, based on the Bible, envisions 
man as created in the image of God, by 
"virtue of a creative potentiality which 
corresponds to God as the Creator of the 
Universe." Life under the latter system is 
considered sacred by virtue of the indi- 
vidual being created in the image of God. 
These systems of society are at odds with 
one another, and have been since the be- 
ginning of recorded history, or as Mr. 
LaRouche eloquently puts it, "since the 
role of Solon of Athens in kicking out the 
usurers and establishing a republic based 
on law at Athens, which is the real begin- 
ning of European civilization." 

Without the hyperbole this makes 
sense. The problem with the book ap- 
pears quickly, however. A connection is 
made early on between the militaries of 
Latin America as defenders of Christian 
ideals, in that their armies conquered an 
empire to spread and glorify God and 
have since been defending Christianity 
and the Christian states to which they be- 
long. It follows that anyone who opposes 
the military opposes God and is therefore 
a pagan — to be subdued at all cost. 

The "grand conspiracy" starts here. 
According to this volume, the elimina- 
tion of national military institutions is 
only the latest step in a long effort by the 
British Empire to bring Spain and her for- 
mer colonies in Latin America under 
total Anglo-American rule. "With few ex- 
ceptions, that strategic objective has 
dominated United States policy toward 
Ibero-America since the turn of the cen- 
tury, when Anglo-American empire inter- 
ests seized firm control over U.S. institu- 
tions in the government of that evil 
Mason and admirer of the Confederate 
cause in the U.S. Civil War, Teddy Roo- 
sevelt." The American Freemasonic 
movement, the Scottish Rite of Freema- 
sonry, and corrupt Catholics in the 
United States become the agents of 
British imperialism. This oligarchy uses 
all its powers to destroy the sovereign na- 
tion-states of the region and their institu- 
tions, in particular the armed forces who 
defend that sovereignty. Why? Because 
the "oligarchy has classified people of 
Mediterranean, black, and Oriental and 
so forth origins as being qualified to be 
helots — as being an animal species on 



the lower level of society than the 
'Elect'. " Moreover, their object is to elim- 
inate technological progress and the pur- 
suit of science and reason, abolish self- 
government, and retain their numbers at 
desired levels. 

And this is where things get compli- 
cated. The mechanism for imposing such 
a viewpoint is the new world order es- 
poused by former President George Bush 
which is a project to eliminate the armed 
forces as institutions in Latin America as 
revealed in a book entitled The Military 
and Democracy: The Puture of Civil-Military 
Relations in Latin America, edited by Louis 
Goodman. The agents of this plot range 
from the International Monetary Fund to 
left-wing French intellectuals. 

The Plot finds a test case in the inva- 
sion of Panama, already occupied by U.S. 
forces and using the U.S. dollar as its cur- 
rency. The first step taken by Washington 
after the invasion was to disband the Pa- 
namanian military and create a police 
force. The second case is El Salvador, 
where the United States had been secretly 
negotiating with the Farabundo Marti Na- 
tional Liberation Front (FMLN). In 1990, 
according to the authors, General George 
Joulwan, commander in chief of U.S. 
Southern Command, ordered a negoti- 
ated settlement. FMLN was to infiltrate 
the government and the armed forces 
were to be reduced, all in the name of de- 
mocratizing the Americas. As a result of 
these two test cases, two military institu- 
tions in the region were decreased to neg- 
ligent threat levels. 

While this book rehearses some use- 
ful data, it is all manipulated to support 
the tangled web of conspiracy outlined 
above and loses credibility. The assump- 
tion that the United States, acting at the 
behest of British imperialism, plots to un- 
dermine and destroy the armed forces of 
the region through nongovernmental or- 
ganizations, academic symposia, and ob- 
scure or nonexistent agents is of course 
patently absurd. If the U.S. military was 
plotting to annihilate counterpart mili- 
taries in Latin America, it would use its 
own assets instead of LaRouche's bizarre 
register of academics, diplomats, and the 
rest of his cast of characters. While those 
people no doubt have influence, they 
certainly do not enjoy as much as The 
Plot ascribes to them. 

The balance of this book is devoted 
to case studies and an "interview" with 
LaRouche. While there are numerous ex- 
amples of the twisted logic which is uti- 
lized to weave this conspiracy, a look at 
only a few demonstrates the alternative 



Spring 1996 / JFQ 135 




■ off the shelf 



reality at work here. In discussing coun- 
terdrug efforts as a mission for the mili- 
tary, the term "eradication" is used to in- 
dicate the elimination of the illegal drug 
trade. When the proceedings of a confer- 
ence published in the United States claim 
that eradication is not working and that 
the effort should be reoriented toward in- 
terdiction, the authors present this deci- 
sion as approval of an acceptable level of 
drug use, thus reducing the overall effort 
to stop the trade. To everyone else, how- 
ever, "eradication" is the buzzword for 
uprooting illegally planted coca or 
marijuana plants. 

Another example that should give 
Latin American specialists some pause is 
the definition of geopolitics found in the 
preface: "[it] arises from the conception 
that it is nature as such, with its effects 
upon man, which determines behavior, 
and thus determines interests accord- 
ingly." That is social Darwinism and not 
geopolitics. Geopolitics is the effect of ge- 
ography on the nation-state. 

For analytical purposes, a critical 
distinction is contained in the statement 
that there is "no moral difference be- 
tween the oligarchy of Britain and the 
United States — essentially the Scottish 
Rite-related Freemasonic oligarchy — and 
Bolshevism. There never was." Although 
that claim is true, it is also irrelevant. 
Capitalism and Bolshevism are not con- 
cerned with morality, rather they are 
philosophical arguments for the owner- 
ship of property. Even stretching the 
point to include two different systems 
yields the same conclusion: neither is 
about morality. But the authors of The 
Plot use an illogical and irrelevant con- 
nection between two opposing systems 
to form a key element in their conspiracy 
theory. Adding the appropriate perspec- 
tive to that connection removes a basic 
building block from the theory, thus 
negating the reasoning of their evidence. 

The authors of this book compiled 
all the right data and then applied it to a 
single argument. Their logic, however, 
involves the assumption of a causal rela- 
tionship between the intent of events 
and people involved. That assumption is 
unquestionably false. Nonetheless, the 
book currently is commanding a growing 
following within the militaries of Latin 
America. Thus it should be studied as 
an insight into one of the influences on 
members of the armed forces within 
our hemisphere. JFQ 



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